


K-Pop Prompt Fills

by roebling



Category: B.A.P, K-pop, Secret (Band)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Prompt Fill, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 51
Words: 40,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roebling/pseuds/roebling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've been taking prompts on ask.fm. Here are the results! If you want to leave me a prompt (anonymously, free of charge?) you should go for it, <a href="http://ask.fm/roebling">right here</a>. No promises, but if inspiration strikes I'll write something.  Each chapter represents a different prompt & fill. All are short and unedited.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. [Picture Prompt]

**Author's Note:**

> I've been taking prompts on ask.fm. Here are the results! If you want to leave me a prompt (anonymously, free of charge?) you should go for it, [right here](http://ask.fm/roebling). No promises, but if inspiration strikes I'll write something. Each chapter represents a different prompt & fill. All are short and unedited.

_Based on[this picture](http://24.media.tumblr.com/f249a6cea18ddf1440f7eb397de48cc1/tumblr_mkpyt9Dmh81rnkj5ho1_500.jpg)._

"No," he says. "I don't want to do it."  
  
"What? You think I can't do it? You don't think I'm strong enough?" Daehyun frowns at him from under his flowery hat. "Yoo Youngjae, you know I've been working out! You go to the gym with me!"  
  
Youngjae rolls his eyes. Daehyun's been working out lately, and he's a lot stronger than he was, but that's not really the issue.  
  
Youngjae is someone who likes to keep both feet on the ground.  
  
"Why don't you go on my shoulders?" He knows he's strong enough to carry Daehyun, and he'd feel better that way.  
  
The photographer looks on, annoyed. "Kids, make up your mind, please."  
  
Daehyun scowls. "Come on, you idiot. Get on my shoulders."  
  
The photographer and the stylists are watching. It's really awkward. Daehyun crouches down and Youngjae climbs up. Daehyun wobbles for a minute as he finds his feet. It's weird. Youngjae clutches his shoulders. He doesn't like counting on Daehyun not to drop him -- Daehyun's his best friend, and he doesn't even want to trust him this far.  
  
"Okay, look like you're having fun." The photographer readies his camera. Youngjae smiles and holds the brim of his hat. The entire time, he feels Daehyun's hands on his thighs, feels how precarious their balance is.  
  
"Nice," the photographer says. "That's nice." The flashbulb flashes. "Good."  
  
Daehyun straightens up, and then Youngjae feels himself slipping ... and they both fall backwards, to the floor.  
  
He sits, stunned, for a moment, and then Daehyun is shoving at him. "Get off me!"  
  
"I told you I didn't want to do it," Youngjae says, eyes narrow. His elbow hurts and his pride is wounded.  
  
"You? What about me? I got squashed!" Daehyun can't hold his outraged face though. He starts cackling, eyes closed. He scrambles to his feet, and heads towards the dressing room. The stylist nunas laugh behind their hands at them. He should be mad that Daehyun made them both look stupid, but he's not. If it were any of the other guys maybe but not Daehyun.  
  
"You did that on purpose!" Youngjae gets up too, and follows after. It's weird, he thinks, that even though his feet are back on solid ground, he still feels like he's floating in mid air.


	2. prompt: Daehyun's strange choice of hat for the gym

Daehyun pulls the coat tighter around himself, pulls his hat down over his eyes, and glances around the  
corner.

The coast is clear. He sneaks through the living room, past Junhong's skateboard and Jongup's sneakers. He steps over a stack of Himchan's entertainment magazines and is nearly at the door when --

"Where exactly are you going looking like that?"

Youngjae is leaning up against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, looking entirely too smug for Daehyun's liking.

It's a good look for him.

"I'm not going anywhere," Daehyun mutters.

Youngjae does not look convinced. "You've been sneaking off somewhere dressed like a private detective twice a week for a month now." He narrows his eyes. "Do you have a girlfriend or something?"

"What? No. Of course I don't have a girlfriend." Seriously, the nerve of this kid. "Yoo Youngjae, stop spreading rumors."

Youngjae shrugs. "You've been sneaking around, and you didn't even tell me -- your supposed best friend -- anything. What I am supposed to think?"

Daehyun frowns. It's not that he's been trying to keep this a secret, exactly ... "Ivbngointthgm."

"What was that?" Youngjae asks. "For someone with such a big mouth I'm having a hard time hearing you."

Daehyun glares. "I've been going to the gym!"

Youngjae wrinkles his stupid little nose. (It's a dumb nose, honestly. Daehyun's thought about it and there's no other way to label it but a stupid, dumb nose.) "Going to the gym?"

Daehyun rolls his eyes. "What? You never asked me to come with you when you started going. Do you think you're the only one that can start working out and get all buff and hot and stuff?"

Youngjae gets a little bashful. He's so bad at taking compliments. Daehyun doesn't get it. "No," he says. "Of course not ... I just didn't think ... You're so handsome already, I didn't think you needed to work out." His cheeks are turning red. "I'm the one with the baby fat, remember."

Daehyun grins at the memory. He likes those pictures, no matter what the internet said -- no matter what Youngjae thinks. "Well, I figured I better start working out before they got a picture of mine."

Youngjae is still a little pink cheeked. "This is so boring. I thought you had some great secret." He sighs. "I might as well come with you now."

Daehyun waits as Youngjae changes his clothes and puts on his sneakers. It's a little annoying having to wait, but he doesn't mind that much. Going to the gym is definitely going to be better with Youngjae around. Then again again, almost everything is better when Youngjae's around.

"Okay," Youngjae says, throwing his gym bag over his shoulder. "Let's go." He looks Daehyun up and down. "Why are you still wearing the spy get-up? And that stupid hat ..."

"Hey!" Daehyun says. "I like this hat! It's very stylish."

Youngjae snorts. It's not very dignified. "Right. You keep thinking that."


	3. prompt: daehyun says yoo youngjae is the icon of betrayal

Daehyun jabs Youngjae in the chest. "You ... you ... You are an icon of betrayal, Yoo Youngjae!"

Youngjae frowns. "What are you talking about?"

Daehyun narrows his eyes. "Oh, don't pretend like you don't know. What is this all about?" He pinches Youngjae hard on the arm.

"Ow," Youngjae mutters, rubbing the sore spot. "What's your problem?"

Daehyun shakes his head. They're in the costume room at the company building, trying on their outfits for the year end shows. "Isn't it bad enough that we're in a group with Jongup and Yongguk? Isn't that enough? But nooo, you had to start working out and now the nunas are putting you in sleeveless shirts and where does that leave me? Betrayed!"

Youngjae stares at him for a moment, and then bursts out laughing. "Wow, are you actually embarrassed of your spaghetti arms, Jung Daehyun?"

Daehyun scowls. "No, I'm not, but ..."

"Good," Youngjae says, "because I like them. I mean, I'd like them fine if you started working out, too, but there's nothing wrong with your scrawny arms."

Daehyun pouts. "You still suck," he says, and he punches Youngjae on the shoulder for good measure.

"Ow!" Youngjae says. "Actually, I take that back. You're forbidden from working out. For my safety."

Daehyun rolls his eyes but he smiles.


	4. prompt: there is a power cut and daehyun is afraid of the dark

"What are you doing?" There's tension in Daehyun's voice, which is loud in the unnatural silence.

"I'm shutting it off to save batteries," Youngjae says. "Duh."

The night sky is turned inside-out by another bolt of lightening. Wind and rain pelt the windows. It's storming, the power is out, and they're in the dorm all alone.

"Turn it back on," Daehyun says. "What if Yongguk hyung tries to get in touch with us? What if there's a tornado? What if they want us all to evacuate to ..."

"A tornado," Youngjae says, deadpan. "Jung Daehyun, you're scared of the dark!"

"No," Daehyun says. "I am not scared. I am ..."

The lightening flashes brilliant white. Thunder rumbles unhappily. Then, everything is black again.

Daehyun swallows audibly.

Shaking his head, Youngjae grabs Daehyun's hand. "You're scared of the dark."

"I'm not scared," Daehyun says. His death grip on Youngjae's fingers belies his answer. "Not normally, anyway. It's weird when the power is out."

"You're weird all of the time," Youngjae says. "Calm down."

"I'm totally calm," Daehyun says. "You just can't see because we're trapped here without any power or heat, probably likely to freeze before long, but I am as calm as ... As calm as ..."

He is not as calm as anything. A huge blue-white bolt of lightening snakes across the dark sky, followed by the loudest, most bone-shaking thunder yet. Daehyun shrieks. Sighing, Youngjae herds him into a corner of the couch and sits down right beside him to pin him there.

"It's okay to be scared."

"I'm not usually," Daehyun mutters miserably. "I just don't like when the power is out. It's all quiet and you can't figure out what's going on and it's just me alone with the creepy darkness."  
"Hey," Youngjae says, "It's not just you. It's you and me and the creepy darkness. It'll be okay."

"Hmph," Daehyun says, but he doesn't complain when Youngjae huddles closer.

*****

"Bbang, you have to let me take a picture," Himchan says. "Please! This is amazing blackmail material. I'm not going to get a chance like this again."

"Come on, Himchan," Yongguk says. "It's cute. Leave them. You'll have other chances."

Himchan huffs. "Fine, but only because I know I will, the way these two are."

Youngjae and Daehyun are sleeping on the couch, Youngjae's head on Daehyun's shoulder and their hands intertwined. The lights are back on. The door to the bedroom closes with a squeak. Daehyun stirs. Their beds are just a room away, but moving doesn't seem like such a great plan right now. Youngjae gives his hand a reassuring squeeze and settles back down to sleep.


	5. prompt: himchan looks good with a little more weight on him, whether he thinks so or not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning in this chapter for discussion of dieting / weight.

"Thanks a lot, Bbang," Himchan says, puffing out his cheeks and shoving the coffee drink away from him.

Yongguk has undertaken a lot of challenges in his life, but none has been more confusing that being Kim Himchan's boyfriend.

"Um," he says. "Sorry. It's a coffee. I thought you'd like it." He knows Himchan likes coffee. He doesn't know what's wrong today.

"This isn't just a coffee," Himchan says, glaring at the drink. "It's a Venti Iced Peppermint Mocha. With whipped cream!"

"I asked the guy what was good," Yongguk says. He doesn't drink coffee. He doesn't know. "It has coffee in it ... I think."

"I can't drink it," Himchan says. "I'm a diet, Bbang. You know that."

This again. "Himchannie, I don't know why you need to be on a diet."

Himchan narrows his eyes and frowns. "You know why," he says. "The fans said I looked fat."

Yongguk rolls his eyes. He sits down next to Himchan. "One fan. One fan said you looked like you gained a little weight."

Himchan puffs his cheeks out. "Well, she's right. I'm the visual, Bang. My looks are important!"

"Start coming to the gym with us then." Yongguk says.

Himchan scrunches his nose. "Don't be silly." He sighs. "I just need to diet. If the fans think I'm fat ..."

Yongguk bumps his shoulder against Himchan's. "What about what I think?"

Himchan sniffs.

"I like you like this," Yongguk says. He slides his arm around Himchan's waist, and lets his fingers wander under the hem of his shirt to find his hot, smooth skin.

"Fat," Himchan says, sullenly.

"No," Yongguk says, sternly. "Don't be silly. Your cheekbones aren't so ... bony. You look healthy."

Himchan squirms. "I have a tummy," he whispers, mortified.

"So," Yongguk says. He lets his hand slide around and rests his palm against the barely-there curve of Himchan's stomach. It's soft and comfortable and sort of perfect. "It's cute." It's more than cute. It's really nice.

"That's easy for you to say, Mr. I-promise-I'll-show-you-my-abs," Himchan mumbles. He keeps trying to squirm away, but Yongguk's arm around his waist keeps him neatly in place. "If you looked like me ..."

"I don't want to look like you," Yongguk says, "and I don't want you to look like me. I like you exactly the way you are." He squeezes the little tiny bit of soft flesh at Himchan's waist, just to emphasize his point.

Himchan swallows. Yongguk leans closer, close enough to smell his cologne (too strong, but that's okay). Himchan's pout waivers, and then he grins, that big grin that takes up his whole entire face.

"Bbang, you're such a shameless flatterer."

Yongguk grins too. "I can't help it if my boyfriend is really hot." Yongguk doesn't lie. It's the plain and obvious truth.


	6. Please give Youngjae a spirit animal/daemon (fic or speculation) <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned into B.A.P / His Dark Materials daemon AU snippets

When he was a child Youngjae's daemon Joko spent a lot of as pretty border collie. They both think that's what she'll end up as, even though he knows what it means to have a dog daemon. He's just a little bit disappointed when she settles as a raccoon the year he turns 16, just before he decides to stop training at JYP, but in the end he decides it actually makes more sense.

She's not the first daemon people notice when they walk into the room, and she doesn't draw attention to herself but everyone admires the way she can open drawers and undo the zippers on his bag. She's much smarter than Jinyoung's and Jaebum's daemons, who are both grinning golden retrievers. She's beautiful, in spite of what some of the other trainees say: her fur is thick and glossy and her eye are bright. (It feels right, anyway, the night after he quits, when he buries his face in her fur and cries. She runs her little paw through his hair and tells him not to worry, and that he'll be noticed when the time is right, by the people that matter.)

*

When Daehyun comes to audition for the company, they hear his Keke chattering before he even opens the door to the practice room. She's a pretty medium-sized bird with lovely pink plumage on her throat and breast -- a galah, he tells them later -- and she immediately swoops down and startles Joko from where she's sitting on a shelf. Joko tumbles, roly-poly, but regains her footing and reaches out for Keke's tail feathers. She misses by half an inch. Self-satisfied, Keke settles at the very top of one of the stacks of amplifiers.

"Sorry," Daehyun says, grinning, but she stays up there the entire time, preening in a very self satisfied way.

Dorm life is a lot less quiet after Keke and Daehyun move in.

*

"Isn't it weird that your daemon is a turtle when you're a dancer, hyung?" Junhong asks. "She doesn't really move much."

Jongup shakes his head. Dada is just the right size to fit in his hand. He strokes her shell. She pokes her head out and takes a look around, but there's nothing much to notice right now, so she draws herself back inside.

"No," he says. He's thought about this a lot. "It's good. When I'm dancing I feel like I could fly. Dada is like the anchor that keeps me tied to the ground."

*

Himchan's Tatsu is a sleek red fox -- of course.

"We thought she might end up a peahen," Himchan says, grinning. Tatsu's lolling-tongued grin looks very similar. "Or a guinea pig. But this works."

Even though foxes have a bad reputation, there's nothing scary about Tatsu. (Himchan is another matter.) She's friendly and clever, swiping little morsels off the table with her paws when they eat dinner. She and Joko chase each other around the dorm, which is in a perpetual state of chaos, especially with Keke flapping around overhead.

Later, when things change between Yongguk and Himchan, Himchan admits the truth. (Both of them in bed late at night, with Yongguk's hand resting on Tatsu's tail and Shishi curled up at their feet -- the most intimate thing he's ever done with anyone.)

"Foxes are supposed to be able to pretend to be human," Himchan says. "I feel like that sometimes, Bbang. A perfect copy, fooling everyone." He's still for a moment, and then he grins. "Don't worry. I'm not going to eat your liver or anything, though."

*

Shishi is a goat.

She's a small goat with silky white and black fur and a hard head that she likes to push into Yongguk's thigh. It's not exactly the most gangster animal. The other guys in his crew have hawk daemons, and tarantulas, and one even has snake. Shishi is shy and for a goat, quite pretty. He's not resentful (he'd no sooner resent her than he'd cut off his own hand) but he wonders why a goat is the right fit. Later on, it makes more sense. Yongguk wants to make things happe and change the system, pushing hard against the weight of tradition and society and all the messed up ways the world works. Shishi might not be the most glamorous daemon, but she's sturdy and wise and she knows exactly what she's about.

"Does she eat tin cans?" Himchan asks, not long after they meet. He laughs and leans back in his chair, balancing on two legs. His Tatsu grins a vulpine grin. Shishi stays quiet, but she butts her hard little head against the legs of Himchan's chair. He goes sprawling to the ground. Tatsu's tail goes bushy and she pushes her nose against Himchan's nose. Satisfied, Shishi jumps up on the couch and rests her head in Yongguk's lap. He just smiles.

*

Toto hasn't settled yet. The other guys give Junhong a lot of grief about it. "Oh, our little Junhonggie is just a baby," Himchan coos, trying to scratch under his chin. Toto, a butterfly today, flaps irritatedly around his head. Junhong isn't worried about that -- he's already taller than all the hyungs.

Toto is worried, though. "But Junhong," she says. "What if I end up being a giraffe? That would be really hard to work into the stage performance."

"It would be cool," Junhong says. "We'd definitely stand out."

"You don't need me to stand out," she says.

She's bunny right now, soft and white and long-eared. It's not the kind of thing a boy says he hopes daemon settles as, but it feels right.


	7. prompt: Daehyun and Yongguk have a serious bro talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (IDEK what this is :( sorry anon. It turned into Bro!Daehyun bothering Youngjae and being kind of sexist. Ilu Daehyun I hope you're not really like this -- even though Zinger does have one of the best asses in Kpop.)

"Dude," Daehyun says, sitting down heavily on the next weight bench over. "You are never going to believe what Himchan told me Yongguk told him Jiuen said."

Youngjae is on the fifth of six sets of bicep curls. Sweat is running down his neck and under the collar of his tee. "What?" he asks, through gritted teeth.

"Apparently Hana nuna wasn't kidding when she said she thought you've been looking good lately." He lifts his eyebrows and grins, showing all his white teeth.

"So?" Youngjae seriously wants to tell him that between that face and that terrible hat he looks sleazy enough to give Himchan a run for his money.

"Bro," Daehyun says, shaking his head. "Are you insane? We're talking Secret's Zinger here. If she doesn't have the best ass in the industry she's gotta be in the top three. I know you've seen that video of her dancing to Crazy in Love."

Youngjae rolls his eyes and switches arms. "I've seen it. I'm actually not planning on dating someone because of a YouTube clip."

Daehyun shakes his head. "Himchan hyung would be so disappointed in you right now. What is it? Do you like Hyosung better?" He cups his hands over his chest. "Sunwha?" He lifts one leg and gestures. "No, wait, I got it. You totally love Song Jieun and that golden voice."

"No," Youngjae says. "Aren't you here to work out?"

"I'm taking a break," Daehyun says, archly. "Seriously, Youngjae, I thought I was your best friend. Fess up. Which of the Secret nunas makes your heart go dugeun deguen?"

"None of them," Youngjae says. He finishes his last curl and drops the dumbbell to the floor.

Daehyun shakes head. "You are seriously made of sterner stuff than I am, man. None of them? Not one?"

"No," Youngjae says, narrowing his eyes. "They're all girls, Dae. Wrong gender."

Daehyun's open-mouthed fish out of water expression is pretty satisfying. Youngjae shakes head as he walks away.


	8. prompt: Daehyun develops a sudden allergy

"You're getting sick," Himchan says, eyes narrow. "You better sit over there."

Daehyun frowns. Youngjae slides over to make room for him on the other couch. Daehyun is about to say something snarky along the lines of 'What does it matter if you lose your voice anyway, hyung?' but before he can decide if that’s too mean he erupts in another fit of sneezing.

Youngjae side-eyes him and moves to the other end of the couch. He unzips his bag and pulls out a little packet of tissues.

"Here," he says, tossing them at Daehyun. "But Himchan hyung is right. You better stay over there."

*****

"Hyung," Junhong says, his eyes wide, "I never realized how big your nose is before."

Daehyun narrows his eyes. "Thanks Junhong."

"Your eyes are really red too," Jongup says.

"What did I do to deserve dongsaengs like you?" Daehyun asks. He's barely got the sentence out before he sneezes again.

"I think you need to go to the doctor," Yongguk says.

HImchan, who's sitting beside Daehyun on the back seat, scoots further away.

"I'm fine!" Daehyun's protest is followed by a volley of sneezing.

Yongguk frowns. "I'm calling Manager Kang."

*****

"Well," Youngjae says. "I guess that was lucky."

They're on the way back from the doctor's office. Youngjae has come along for moral support, or, as he put it, to act as Daehyun's personal tissue dispenser.

"How so?" Daehyun sniffs. He doesn't want to jinx himself, but he hasn't sneezed since they left the dorm.

"Well, at least if it's allergies you can't pass it to the rest of us," Youngjae says, reasonably.

Daehyun punches him. "You're a jerk."

"Shut it, Snuffles, or I'm going to cut off the tissue supply."

*****

The doctor recommends that Daehyun go to an allergy specialist so they can pinpoint the cause of his allergies. He'll have to get jabbed by a bunch of needles and possibly go on an elimination diet.

That sounds horrible.

"No," Daehyun says. "I'm fine." His nose is red and sore from sneezing so much, and his eyes are watering and swollen. I can just keep taking medicine."

Manager Kang is exasperated. "You're miserable."

"I'm fine," Daehyun insists. He feels the tickling in his nose that is a prelude to a sneeze … He takes a breath and clenches his teeth and holds the sneeze in.

Himchan shakes his head. "You can break a rib doing that, you know."

Great.

*****

Youngjae starts following him around, taking notes in a little notebook.

"Are you suddenly into Sherlock Holmes role-play or something?" Daehyun says irritably. The allergy medicine makes him drowsy all the time and he doesn’t like it. "What are you doing?"

"You don't always sneeze," Youngjae says.

"What?"

"I mean, sometimes you're fine, right?"

Daehyun frowns. The last week has basically been one long sneeze to him. It's hard to pinpoint any particular periods as being more or less sneeze-y.

"I don't know …"

"You were fine when we went to vocal lessons," Youngjae says, matter-of-fact. "You didn't sneeze once."

"Huh." Daehyun and Youngjae have vocal lessons more frequently than the other members. They'd had one just the other day, and looking back, it's true: Daehyun hadn't really sneezed at all. He'd been too caught up in practice at the time to even notice.

Youngjae smiles, satisfied. "I told you. It's something here, I think. I mean, you're definitely worst in the dorm." He taps his pen against the notebook.

"Great," Daehyun grumbles. "Maybe I should just pitch a tent on the roof."

Youngjae pats him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Daehyunnie. I'll figure it out. You won't have to be Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer forever."

*****

It's a sunny, beautiful spring day. The trees are in blossom and children shriek happily in the playground across the street. Daehyun licks his chocolate-vanilla swirl ice cream cone. He hasn't sneezed in nearly three hours. Everything is wonderful.

"Not milk products," Youngjae says, making a note in his book. "Or grass or tree pollen. Hmm."

*****  
"Don't you think this is long enough?" Daehyun asks.

"No," Youngjae says. "Keep petting."

"Hyung, I want to hold the puppy," Junhong asks. He makes grabby hands towards Cappucino.

Youngjae rolls his eyes. "Fine."

Daehyun hands over the wriggling bundle of fur. Junhong immediately cradles it against his chest and starts making kissy faces.

"Not dog dander," Youngjae says. He bites the end of his pen.

*****  
They rule out: gluten, soy products, flower pollen, ragweed pollen, peanut butter, human dander, latex and eggs.

Daehyun takes another bite of his peanut butter sandwich. "I don't get," he says, mouth full. "What else is there for me to be allergic to?"

Youngjae bites his lip. "I think I have an idea."

*****

The next afternoon he summons everyone to the common room of the dorm. "Okay," he says. "Juhong, you sit there, and Jonggup next to him, and Yongguk hyung at the end. Himchan, you sit next to Daehyun."

"Thanks," Himchan says. "You stick me next to sick boy."

Daehyun immediately sneezes.

Youngjae pulls his cap down lower over his eyes and crosses his arms. "It's just as I expected," he says.

"What?" Daehyun is really sick of this. "Ya, Youngjae, stop messing around! What is it?"

"You're allergic to Himchan hyung." 

*****

Chaos erupts. Junhong bursts into laughter and clings to Jongup. Daehyun sneezes violently. Himchan jumps to his feet.

"What do you mean? Allergic to me. Youngjae, don't be a punk. What do you mean?"

Yongguk stares at them all like he's not quite sure what he's gotten himself into.

"He only sneezes in the dorm or when we're all together," Youngjae says calmly. "And the closer he is to you, the worse he is."

Daehyun blows his nose, loudly.

"I see what this is," Himchan says, eyes narrowed. "I thought you were my lovable dongsaengs but now I see there's been a plot against me all this time. FIne! I'll just …"

"Himchannie," Yongguk says, warningly. "I don't think …"

"No, Bbang," Himchan says. "I understand. I get it. I'm being sacrificed for …"

Youngjae huffs. "I didn't mean he's allergic to your personality. It's gotta be something on you or … " He steps towards Himchan. "That smell. Are you wearing cologne?"

Himchan pouts. "It was really expensive, though."

*****

Himchan pours the bottle of expensive cologne down the sink (although not without protesting vigorously). It takes a few days, but Daehyun is able to breathe again. He buys Youngjae and Himchan both iced coffee -- but whether to say thank you or sorry he's not sure.


	9. prompt: jongup teaches himchan how to dougie

Junhong breathes out through his nose. "Hyung, that's not it. You look like some drunk ajusshi dancing at a wedding."

Himchan narrows his eyes. "Hey! I'm trying. Not all of us are dancing machines, Junhong." He purses his lips and studies himself in the mirror. "Besides, you're supposed to be teaching me, so if I'm not doing it right, it's your fault."

Junhong scrunches his nose. "Okay, hyung ... so, you need to be looser." Himchan loosens up ... or tries to, anyway.

"Now, you need to move kind of ... you know. Don't make it look like you're swaying back and forth on the deck of a ship. It's gotta be ... groovier."

Himchan raises an eyebrow. The kid has been spending too much time with Bbangie.

"That's better," Junhong says, "but don't stick your butt out so much. With your lips like that you kind of look like a duck."

Himchan stops. "Hey! Junhong, you punk! Are you comparing my visuals to a duck?"

"What are you guys doing?" Jongup is looking at them with a slightly alarmed look on his face (which is as alarmed as Jongup ever looks).

"I'm teaching him how to Dougie," Junhong says.

"Oh?" Jongup grins. "Hyung, let me see."

Junhong presses play again. Himchan shuffles one way, and shuffles another. He bops his fists up and down, and even does the hair-slicking-back move.

Junhong sighs. "Hyung, I told you not to ..."

"No," Jongup says. "I think it's really good."

Himchan is so surprised he stops dead still. He throws his arms around Jongup. "Uppie, I always knew you were my favorite." He glances narrow-eyed at Junhong. "See, some people can appreciate my unique dance skills."

Jongup waits patiently for a moment and then unwinds Himchan's arms from around his neck. He starts shuffling in place a bit himself. "Um, well the Dougie is ... everyone does it differently. Junhonggie's is really perfect and just exactly like they show it in the video." Junhong's cheeks color and he looks down, smiling. "And Himchan hyung -- your Dougie looks good from far away, even though up close it seems a little awkward, but it's really noticeable and stuff. So. It's right, y'know, for you."

Himchan purses his lips. "Junhong, I can't tell if he just insulted me or not."

Junhong shakes his head. "I don't know, hyung."

Himchan throws his arms around Jongup again, and Junhong joins in too, leaning his weight on them so they all go tumbling to the mats.

"Moon Jongup," Himchan says. "I still don't know if you're an idiot or a genius, but thank you."

Jongup just smiles.


	10. prompt: youngjae (mostly) likes daehyun just fine, really, but sometimes all that poking and prodding just goes too far

It's been a long day. Youngjae climbs into the corner of the back seat of the van and lets his head fall back against the headrest. It feels like it weighs about fifty kilos. They had a fan sign in the morning, followed by a photoshoot, followed by a prerecording for a music show. He feels like he could sleep for ten days. At the very least, he's going to close his eyes and not wake up until they're back at the dorm.

Or not.

Daehyun is jabbing him in the side with his finger. "Move over," he hisses. "You know the maknae is going to fall asleep and sprawl all over me. Move over and give me more room."

Youngjae squeezes his eyes shut, and scoots over marginally. He likes Daehyun. Daehyun is his best friend, even, but tonight he doesn't want to be poked and prodded and chattered at the entire way home. Daehyun's always messing with him like that -- pulling on his cheek, poking him in the belly, punching him playfully on the arm. Sometimes he doesn't mind it -- sometimes he even likes it -- but right now he needs a little space.

Daehyun sighs and spreads his legs. Their thighs press together. Junhong yawns enormously. Youngjae knows he's half asleep and pretty soon he's going to be taking up half the seat. 

Daehyun squishes closer.

Youngjae's not going to get mad. There's no point. He's just going to keep his eyes shut and ignore the way Daehyun's arm snakes around the back of his headrest. He's going to sleep, because he's really so tired, and it's actually quiet for once, no Himchan prattling away in the front seat, no tinny echo of music from Jongup's headphones. He's going to sleep --

He twitches. There's like a bug or something on his neck, tickling. He opens one eye. Daehyun is grinning, his finger hovering over Youngjae's neck.

"What are you doing?"

"You have a freckle right there," he says, poking the spot again.

"I know," Youngjae says. It's his freckle. Of course he knows.

"It's cute," Daehyun says.

Oh. Youngjae tries hard not to smile. "Well cut it out," he says. "I'm not some kind of substitute for your stupid teddy bear, you know."

He grabs Daehyun's hand and pulls it down to hold in his lap. Daehyun presses closer still, and rests his head on Youngjae's shoulder.

"Of course not," he says. "You're squishier. And cuter."


	11. daejae competing for the attention of the secret noonas

"Nuna, I got you ..."

Hyosung looks up, brushes her long hair out of her face, and smiles that blindingly beautiful smile. Beside her, Youngjae doesn't even have the nerve to look sheepish.

"Oh, Daehyunnie, what good timing! Youngjae is downloading a torrent for me. We're going to watch The Hunger Games."

"I got you a coffee," Daehyun says lamely. "I remember how much you said you liked it last time."

Her smile is even brighter. "Thank you, Daehyunnie!" She pats the seat beside her. "Come sit down and watch with us."

"The download's almost finished, nuna," Youngjae says.

She claps her hands together. "Youngjae, you're awesome."

Sheepishly, Youngjae says, "It's nothing." Daehyun can see the smugness in his stupid pouty smile.

"I'm so lucky to have such nice dongsaengs," Hyosung says. She puts an arm around each of their shoulders. The movie starts to play. "Oh look at Jennifer Lawrence. She's so great, isn't she?"

*****

"Nuna, why didn't you ask Himchan hyung to come with you? He's way better at shopping and stuff. Or Junhonggie. He's the one who knows about fashion ..." Youngjae glances down at his phone. Sunwha is looking for the perfect, perfect present for Kwanghee. They've been at this for hours.

Sunhwa sniffs. "What? Aren't you glad I asked you?"

"Of course I am," Youngjae says. "I just ..."

"He'd just be happy to wear the same jeans and sweatshirt every day of his life, if the stylists let him," Daehyun says. "Nuna, I think you should go with this one." He points towards the leather loafers she holds in her right hands. They're blue patent leather -- loud and a bit flashy, just like Kwangee.

Sunhwa frowns. "I really didn't want to spend this much ... especially for that jerk, but ..."

Daehyun shakes his head. "Nuna, leave it to me." He takes the shoes and marches up to the nicely-dressed woman at the cash register. Sunhwa trails behind. Daehyun smiles a greasy smile that would do Himchan proud. His eyes go wide when the clerk says something back, and he laughs.

Youngjae shakes his head. It's kind of sickening.

When they're back, Sunhwa with the bag in her hand, she says, "Daehyunnie, that was amazing. Where did you learn to haggle like that?"

"It's a natural talent," Daehyun says. He looks stupidly happy. Youngjae rolls his eyes.

"You boys are just full of talents," Sunhwa says. "You keep surprising me."

*****

"Nuna," Daehyun says, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "It's good."

"It's good," Youngjae says. He's avoiding looking at himself in the mirror, but he feels at least as tired and disgusting as Daehyun looks. When Hana nuna had asked them to feature in a performance with her at Secret's showcase, they'd been delighted (and both agreed immediately). They hadn't counted on her being as much of a perfectionist as Yongguk hyung.

"One more time, kids," she says, clapping her hands. 

Youngjae exhales. It's about eighty thousand degrees in the studio. For a moment he weighs the embarrassment of Hana nuna seeing his (still just a bit soft) tummy against the nastiness of total dehydration and heat exhaustion. He pulls off his tee shirt. It's weird being in just a wifebeater. Whatever. If she wanted someone with abs of steel she could have asked Jonguppie ...  
Daehyun makes a twisty face and pulls off his own shirt. Youngjae's too tired to even care. "Nuna," he says. "I really don't think Daehyun and I are going to get any better. You should have asked Jongup and Junhong."

"Yeah, nuna," Daehyun says. He downs the rest of his fourth bottle of sports drink. "I mean, they're the dancers, after all."

Hana shakes her head. "They're babies," she says.

"Yah, what are we?" Daehyun asks. "Slaves?"

Hana (who is apparently impervious to the heat, because she looks as beautiful as ... well, as beautiful as she always looks) shakes her head and smiles a smile that makes Youngjae a little nervous. "No, you two are men, aren't you?"

Daehyun's mouth drops open. He glances over at Youngjae. Youngjae shakes his head. He doesn't know either.

The door to the studio opens. Hyosung and Sunhwa come in carrying bottles of water and kimbap.

"We're here with supplies!" Hyosung says, hoisting the bottles over her head. Her shirt is tight and short and Youngjae directs his eyes elsewhere -- hard.

"Wow, it looks like a sauna in here," Sunhwa says. "What have you guys been doing?"

Hana takes a bottle of water. "Where's Jieunnie? With you know who?"

Hyosung mouths 'boyfriend' and the girls grin at each other.

"We came to see how you were doing."

Hana nods. "Come on, kids. Let's go again."

They run through the routine. Youngjae is almost positive he's going to screw up. He's even more sure Daehyun will. By some miracle they both make it through without any glaring errors. He stands panting when it's over, fumbling with the cap on his water bottle.

"Very good!" Hyosung says. "Hana, did you ..."

"I was just getting there," she says. "It's cute, boys."

Youngjae ... doesn't know what she means. Daehyun doesn't look like he does either.

"The flirting!" Sunhwa shakes her head. "Do you think we're idiots? It's precious -- buying us drinks and coming shopping and everything -- it's very cute."

Hyosung nods. "It's cute, but I think you have the wrong idea, Youngae, Daehyun ..."

Youngjae feels his heart sink. It's not like he really thought ... but ... "Nuna, I'm so sorry ..."

Daehyun starts to apologize at the same time. "We're so sorry, Nuna. We didn't mean ..."

"We were just ..."

"You're all so pretty ... "

"We're just dongsaengs ..."

"We humbly apologize ..."

Hyosung huffs. "No. No. No! Not like that." She grins at them. "Boys, there's three of us, and there's only two of you. You're not the ones who need to be competing."

Sunhwa raises an eyebrow. "I hope you're up to it," she says. "You look pretty ... spent." 

Youngjae is sure his face must be right red. Daehyun's definitely is. They talk over each other. "We're up to it!"

"Nuna, we're up for anything, honestly."  
"Whatever the nunadeul want!"

Hyosung's grin is huge. Sunhwa smiles too, and eyes them in a not-entirely-wholesome way.

Hana laughs and claps Youngjae on the ass, hard. He nearly swallows his tongue.

"Don't worry," she says. "I think there's plenty to go around."


	12. prompt: daehyun comforting jongup after pranking him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is presumably set after Killing Camp, where Daehyun tries to scheme Jongup!)

"I'm not stupid."

"Huh?"

"I'm not stupid," Jongup says.

"I don't think you're …"

"I know it's funny." Jongup frowns, his mouth drawn up tight. "I thought maybe the PD-nim would think so too. I'm not really that stupid." He pauses. "I think."

Daehyun has this weird sinking feeling in his stomach. "Jongup-ah, I don't think you're stupid. I know it was for the show."

"Even if it wasn't, it's okay, hyung," Jongup says easily, smiling his buck-toothed smile. "I guess it's good for them to give us all roles, and it's not that bad being the dumb one. But I'm not really that way."

"I know you're not …"

"I think maybe I'm getting dumber, though," Jongup says, looking thoughtful. It's a rare night when everyone else is out and they have free schedules. Daehyun sits up and turns the volume on the television down.

"What are you talking about? You still do really well in school, don't you? And I know Junhong talks to you about things he won't tell the rest of us. Plus, you're the only one who gets what the choreographer hyung is saying half the time. Jongup, you're not dumb. Honestly, why would you say something like that?"

"Hyung, I know I'm not," Jongup says. "I said that, right? But I try to think what 'dumb me' would do or say and then sometimes I end up doing the same thing without even realizing that."

Daehyun doesn't know if Jongup is smart or dumb, but he's definitely the weirdest person Daehyun has ever met. "Um."

"Don't you do that sometimes? Don't you think about what you'd do if you were the mysterious Daehyun hyung that the writer nuna created?"

Daehyun has honestly never thought about that. The person they wanted him to be for the show - silent, mysterious, secretive - is so far from who he really is that there's never been any overlap. All the stuff that writer nunas and fans come up with - embarrassing and inaccurate nicknames (he's definitely not the best looking in the group - he's not even sure if he's in the top half) and goofy personas - is extraneous. He wishes Jongup felt the same way. He shakes his head, annoyed.

"That was just about the dumbest character they could have given me? Silent? Mysterious? And if I had to listen to that pabo Youngjae make one more joke about how I'd been gagged I swear I would -"

Jongup laughs. "No, I guess you wouldn't have that problem, huh?"

There's something a little cold in his laugh that hurts Daehyun's heart. Jongup is his brother - his brother! - and he shouldn't feel like he's got to become some stupid character they asked him to play in a television show. "Come here," he says.

Jongup stares at him.

"Yah! Come here! I'm trying to comfort you!"

Jongup reluctantly moves to the other end of the couch. Daehyun wraps his arms around him so that Jongup's shoulder is pressing uncomfortably into his chest. He knows Jongup could throw his arms off if he wanted. He knows he's not great at this comforting stuff, but he's the hyung, and he's got to try. He owes Jongup that.

"I was really jealous of you," Daehyun admits. It's the truth. "When I found out you were the second one in the group after Yongguk hyung, I was jealous. I'd been trying so hard for so long to be a singer, and you were this spacey kid with an absent laugh and funny teeth and you already had what I wanted."

"I didn't …"

"Shush," Daehyun says. "I'm not done comforting." He pats Jongup's head awkwardly. He isn't really so great at this comforting stuff, but he's seen Himchan do this kind of thing with Junhong - more or less. "I was jealous of you at first, but I realized that you deserved to be the second one chosen. You're a better dancer than I could ever dream of being, you work really hard at singing, and you're more observant than anybody gives you credit for. You're not stupid, Moon Jongup. You better not call yourself that ever again. You're great."

Daehyun is surprised at the intensity of his words.

"Hyung, thank you," Jongup says. He makes a little, unhappy noise. "Um. Do you think you can let me go now? My arm is smashed."

"Oh," Daehyun says. "Sorry." He pats Jongup on the head one more time for good measure and then lets him go. Jongup scoots back down to the other end of the couch, rubbing his shoulders.

"I really appreciate it, hyung," Jongup says. "I don't know if I'm dumb or smart, but thank you."

"Don't think ridiculous things about yourself. "You're as bad as Youngjae, honestly," Daehyun says. He stares at the television, suddenly embarrassed. He waits a moment. "Jongup-ah, I'm sorry. if I ever make you feel that way again, tell me, okay?"

"I will, hyung," Jongup says. "But, um, next time you can comfort me a little less vigorously, okay?"

Daehyun just laughs.


	13. prompt: daejae. It is beautiful when you hold love in your hands and you believe that, against all odds, it would last forever.

"Wait. Wait! Hey! Daehyun, wait - "

"Come on!" Daehyun yells over the din of traffic. "Let's go. The light is changing."

Annoyed, Youngjae steps into the crowded street. It's springtime, and tomorrow night B.A.P is going to perform in New York City. (When the company first told them the news they kept repeating that to themselves - it sounded so surreal that only brute force repetition could make it seem like the truth it was.) Today, though, it's springtime and the sun is shining, and they are just two kids seeing the sights.

"You're going to get us lost," Youngjae says, catching up to Daehyun. "Give me the map."

"Look up," Daehyun says. "The Empire freaking State Building is right there. I mean, how lost are we going to get?"

It looms over them, vertigo-inducing and familiar, like a set-piece from a movie dropped into the real world.

"Where are you taking me, anyway?"

"Koreatown."

"What?" Youngjae frowns. "We should go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Or Central Park. Or Rockefeller Center. Why would we go all the way to America just go to go Koreatown?"

Daehyun shrugs. "I just really want some decent naengmyun."

Youngjae punches him in the arm. "Are you kidding me?"

"Hey! I had a craving! So sue me! You could have gone with Manager Kang and the maknaes if you wanted. Even Himchan hyung and Yongguk hyung might have left you tag along if you asked nicely enough."

Youngjae frowns. "You know I didn't want to …"

"I know," Daehyun says, smirking. “You wanted to hang out with me.” He grabs Youngjae's hand and they plunge back into the crowd.

He’s beyond insufferable. Youngjae doesn’t know how he’s managed this long.

They get cold noodles from a little restaurant with dirty plastic tablecloths on the tables and a fly buzzing around the light. Daehyun eats about three fourths of their shared dish and declares them the best noodles he's ever had. Across the street there's a sign in hangul for a book store. Daehyun pulls up his hood and Youngjae puts on his hat and they go in and flip through stacks of magazines and laugh when they see their own stupid faces on rulers, file folders, and sticker sheets.

"Himchan is definitely the cutest in B.A.P," Daehyun says in a low voice. "He's sooo dreamy."

"Oh, shut up," Youngjae says.

"Grouchy," Daehyun says. Then he leans closer. "You know I think you're the cutest in B.A.P, you dummy."

Youngjae's cheeks are bright red as they leave the store, turning their heads to avoid a group of teenage girls coming in. They walk for a long time in the warm afternoon. It's not as though New York is that different from Seoul, but they haven't had afternoon free like this in Seoul in a long, long time. Here, they're anonymous and free - and together. They stand in the middle of Time Square and stare up at all the blinking lights. They walk along dirty streets with drab anonymous storefronts. They listen to a man play the trumpet on a corner. Daehyun wants to give him money - but they don't have any idea how much to give. Youngjae's fumbling through their guide book, but there's no section on buskers. Before he has any answers, Daehyun grabs a big handful of the unfamiliar coins out of his pocket, drops them in the man's cup, and takes off down the street, laughing.

Youngjae runs after, and when he catches him, he asks, panting, "What's so funny?"

"I don't know," Daehyun says. "I don't know."

Daehyun says he’s hungry again so they buy ice cream cones and sit on a bench in a park to eat them. It's evening and the sky is turning a warm dust color. Youngjae is tired, but he feels good - so good.

"I want some of yours," Daehyun says, and he leans over and tastes Youngjae's mango and raspberry. "Good, but mine's better." He brandishes his three scoops: chocolate marshmallow swirl, Brooklyn cheesecake, cannoli creme.

Youngjae shakes his head. Daehyun has ice cream on his cheek. Youngjae leans over and without asking wipes the ice cream away with his thumb.

Daehyun beams at him, stupid eye smile and white, white teeth. Youngjae feels like his heart might beat out of his chest.

They're both smart. They know that one day this will end. Nothing lasts forever and idol groups last for less time than most things. They're smart. They don't ever talk about it.

But Youngjae feels like he is filled up with love for Daehyun (who is loud and sloppy when he eats and sort of whiny and … and … well, he tried to talk himself out of it, but that was doomed to failure) to the point where it might come spilling out of him in some sort of weepingly corny confession.

"You have to try some of mine," Daehyun says.

Youngjae rolls his eyes but leans forward to take a lick. Daehyun leans forward at the same time. Their foreheads knock. Youngjae gets ice cream on his nose. Daehyun looks at him and cracks up … and the three scoop of his ice cream falls off the cone and right to the ground. He stares at it with an expression of true heartbreak.

Youngjae shakes his head and hands him his cone.

"No, no," Daehyun says, still in a mourning tone. "We'll share." He wraps his hand over Youngjae's. His fingers are warm, and a little sticky.

Youngjae is smart. He knows that logically that this will come to an end one day, but right now this thing - love? - feels like the biggest, brightest thing in the entire universe. It feels bright enough to keep shining forever, in spite of the odds.


	14. prompt: past midnight is when Youngjae thinks the most and hurts the most

By the time they get back to the dorm and everyone's showered and plugged in phones and iPads to charge for the morning, it's well after midnight. Junhong is asleep first, passing out on his bed with wet hair, but it's not long before the rest of them climb into their beds too. Yongguk is last. He turns off the light, and says goodnight.  
The day is over.

Most nights, anyway. Some nights, though, Youngjae lies awake in the dark, listening to Jongup snore and Junhong mumble to himself. His body is tired, but his mind is still going a hundred miles a minute.

It's hard. He knew it would be hard, but sometimes it's harder than he ever dreamed it would be. His entire body aches from twelve hours of dance practice. His voice was in bad condition all day. He can feel a tickle in the back of his throat that makes him think it will be in bad condition tomorrow. Himchan kept talking about social media and the fan base on the ride back to the dorm and all Youngjae could think about was how he's still the one who has the least followers on twitter. He tries to rationalize the fear away -- in a group of six, someone's got to have the least -- but it clings.

Stupid worries. Stupid bunk beds that creak every time Daehyun moves in the top bunk. Stupid fans with their favorites. Youngjae's not scared -- he knows he's so lucky to have gotten this far, and he's not scared at the thought of working harder to improve.

He's not scared, but sometimes, late at night like this, all the slights and pains and hardness that build up during a day seem like enough to crush him.

"Daehyun," he whispers.

Sometimes, all he thinks he wants is just a simple hug.

"Daehyun!"

There's no answer. Daehyun is asleep, and it's not like Youngjae would ask him for a hug anyway. Youngjae's the only one left awake - he should be sleeping too. Trying, at least. Staying awake and worrying like this doesn't do any good. The dark makes everything seem so much worse. He turns over onto his side and closes his eyes and hopes his exhaustion wins tonight's battle in its war with his fear.


	15. prompt: daehyun has only known how to wear his heart on his sleeves

"Daehyun, do it again," Yongguk says through the intercom.

Daehyun opens his mouth to protest, and then shuts it. He nods. His throat is sore, stinging, and the lukewarm water doesn't do much to sooth it. He needs to rest. He needs more time. The others have been preparing for this for years and he's barely had two months and Yongguk expects him to do everything perfectly, his voice lifting the whole album, and it's ... it's ... It's. Not. Fair.

He could scream, but instead he sings.

He doesn't count how many times he redoes that part, but by the time they leave the studio he can't speak in anything louder than a whisper.

Youngjae hands him a cup of steaming water and honey. "Sorry," he says.

"It's okay," Daehyun says -- or tries to say. If he has a friend here, it's Youngjae.

"Don't worry," Youngjae says. "Just ignore it. It's not you. With the debut coming up he's getting more nervous."

Daehyun nods, but it doesn't matter. He's mad. He hurts. On the ride back to the dorm he sits in the back corner of their loud, dirty company van with his arms folded over his chest. Yongguk's in the front with his stupid notebook of lyrics or whatever, Jongup's showing Himchan some new Pokemon card he got in the middle seat, and Junhong is sleeping with his head on Youngjae's shoulder and his feet nearly in Daehyun's lap. Nobody's paying any attention to him, and he's just fine with that. Really.

At the dorm, in the general hustle and bustle for the shower, Daehyun can slip out unnoticed. He likes sitting on the roof. He can't really see the stars here like he can back home, and there's no nice cool breeze off the ocean, but at least there's fresh air. His throat feels a little better with rest, and he's not as sore today as he was last week.

He still sucks at dancing. The choreographer hyung points that out all the time, even though Daehyun's told him he's still learning, that he hasn't had as much practice as the other guys. That doesn't seem to matter. Daehyun is trying as hard as he can, and that doesn't seem to matter.

The door to the stairwell creaks as it opens. Daehyun looks up, figuring it's Youngjae they've sent up to bring him back in.

"Hey, Daehyun."

It's Yongguk. Oh. "Hi hyung." Great. He's probably going to get yelled at or something.

Yongguk sits down on the wall beside him. "You did well today."

Daehyun nods. Sure. He says that now, but at the studio he'd picked over every single tiny flaw.

"You're still angry," Yongguk says, watching him.

Daehyun takes a deep breath. He wants to debut so badly he could cry, and he can't piss off the leader. "I'm not angry ..."

Yongguk laughs. "You aren't very good at hiding what you're feeling," he says. "You look so angry right now that you could punch me."

"I. Don't. Want. To. Punch. You." Daehyun's teeth are grit. "I'm not --"

Yongguk just smiles at him, serene and unworried. "You are," he says. "It's okay."

"Fine!" Daehyun breathes out. "I'm angry! I'm angry of you not being satisfied when I'm working as hard as I can. I'm angry that Himchan hyung always uses all the hot water! I'm angry that you all were doing so well without me and then the company shoved me into your group and messed everything up! I'm angry I'm not doing better."

He's breathing heavily when he's done, and his throat hurts again. He's probably screwed himself over with that rant. Youngjae's voice is getting stronger. Maybe they'll just decide that five is the right number for the group, and they'll ship Daehyun back to Busan on the first express bus.

"Calm down," Yongguk says. "You're allowed to be angry, you know."

"Huh?"

Yongguk smiles. "It's okay for you to be angry. I'm not angry that you're angry. I'm not angry at all."

Daehyun doesn't believe it.

Yongguk grins that stupid, gummy smile. "I'm really not," he says. "I know it doesn't seem like you've been here very long, Daehyun, but you're part of our team now. You don't have to be happy with us all the time. You're not very good at pretending you are."

"I'm not unhappy ..." Daehyun isn't, really.

"It's really hard," Yongguk says.

Daehyun nods. It's so hard. "I'm trying really hard."

"I know," Yongguk says. "You're doing really well." He reaches out and squeezes Daehyun's hand, and it's kind of awkward but that's okay.

Daehyun hangs his head. "Sorry. I thought I was doing a better job keeping my emotions in check."

"You don't have to, Daehyunnie," Yongguk says. "You're one of us. You can be mad or happy or sad or whatever you want, okay?"

Daehyun nods.

"Come on," Yongguk says, standing. "Let's go inside. I'll make you some tea for your throat."

Daehyun beams. "Thanks, hyung. Really."


	16. prompt: youngjae & daehyun, home improvement <3

Sometimes, Youngjae's ideas are too big.

"A mural? Can you even draw?" Daehyun asks, suspicious. "Because remember that time they made us draw our ideal times and yours came out looking like a turtle that had been run over by a semi-truck?"

Youngjae scowls. "I was thinking we could ... you know." He's got bag full of paints and cheap brushes in his hand, and a determined look on his face.

"What?"

"Use a stencil or something," he says. "I don't know, Daehyun. I don't see you coming up with any ideas on how to make this place feel a little homier."

Daehyun shrugs. "Let's just bake an apple pie or something. That's homey, right?"

Sometimes Youngjae's ideas are too complicated.

"It's for the maknae," he says, peering at his iPad. There's some kind of blue print or schematic or something on the screen -- angles and measurements. Too many numbers for Daehyun to think about so early in the morning.

"You want to do what now?" Daehyun yawns.

"I was thinking we could build a ramp ... for the roof, you know? He could practice skating up there."

Daehyun shakes his head. "Where are you gonna get the tools? And nails and wood? It'd be hard to get that stuff all the way up here. Plus, what about the neighbors, pabo? Don't you think it'll be loud if Junhonggie is up there on his skateboard crashing all over the place? Don't you think they'll hear? Don't you think they'll complain?"

Youngjae frowns. "It was just an idea," he says, huffily. "I was trying to do something nice."

Daehyun yawns again. "Let me get up, and we can go get Junhong some of those kimchi pancakes he likes. That's plenty nice. That place has really good ricecakes, too. "

Sometimes, though, Youngjae's ideas are just right.

"What are you doing?" Daehyun blinks. There's someone on his bed, hammering at the wall just inches from his head.

"Hnngngtsssp."

Youngjae's got a tack between his lips. He's leaning forward to hold a poster against the wall. His tee shirt is loose and Daehyun can see his bare stomach. He wants to give him a raspberry.

Youngjae takes the last tack out of his mouth and glares at Daehyun. "Don't even think about it." He hammers it into place and sits back. "Do you like it?"

The poster is cheap, on thin glossy paper. It looks like the kind of thing you get at a dollar store or something. It's of a city, at night, with the blue sea in the foreground and the gold and turquoise lights behind. It's of Busan. Of home.

"Why'd you get this?"

Youngjae shrugs. "I mean, I know you've been here a while, and you're one of us whether you like it or not, but you must miss it there sometimes, right?"

Daehyun nods. "Yeah." He does miss it, constantly, a simmering constant ache that waxes and wanes. He wouldn't trade what he's got now for anything -- but of course he misses it. "Thanks, Youngjae. It looks way better in here now." He reaches out and pulls him down into a hug.

Youngjae beams at him and hugs back.


	17. Prompt: Youngjae handling being called pretty by many people (because he is even prettier than me, darn the boy), and how Daehyun teases/assures Youngjae of his physical appearance.

"Oppa, you're so pretty!"

"Oppa, how did you get so cute?"

"Youngjae oppa's got such an adorable little nose."

"Youngjae oppa, your skin is so perfect, like a girl. What do you do to keep it so nice?"

Youngjae doesn't compliments, especially not from the fans. He's been on the receiving end of the opposite, and … no, he doesn't mind compliments at all. But, does he really look that pretty? Does he really look that cute? It's not that there's anything wrong with looking pretty or cute, it's just … he's never thought of himself as a pretty boy. He's not sure if he wants to.

He frowns.

"What are you making faces about?" Daehyun asks.

"I'm not pretty," Youngjae says. "And I don't look like a girl. Right?"

Daehyun stares at him, considering. "You're definitely prettier than Yongguk hyung or Jonguppie."

Youngjae rolls his eyes. Yongguk and Jonguppie are both really good looking guys, but pretty is not the word that comes to mind when he thinks about describing them.

"Himchan hyung's not exactly pretty either. Of course I'm 100% handsome --" Youngjae snorts. In Daehyun's dreams. " -- and Junhong is just a baby." He nods, satisfied. "You're the prettiest one in the group, man."

Youngjae sighs. He doesn't know if he agrees but he can't exactly find a flaw in Daehyun's logic. "I don't know if that's good for me or sad for our group."

Daehyun is still staring at him. "You don't look like a girl, though. Make that face you always make."

Youngjae doesn't know what he means. "What face?"

"You know …" Daehyun puffs his cheeks out as big as he can.

Youngjae feels his face get hot. "I told you I don't mean to do that. It's just a habit, something I do when I'm concentrating. I don't make fun of you for sticking your tongue out when you're thinking, do I?"

"Hey, just do it!"

Youngjae puffs his cheeks out.

"No," Daehyun says. "Definitely not girl. Maybe like a puffer fish. Or, no, a hamster. Totally just like a hamster with his pudgy cheeks all full of seeds. Aw, how cute. It's no wonder all the fans think you're …"

Youngjae throws one of Jongup's sneakers at him. It misses his head by inches. 

Daehyun sits up, wide eyed. "Oh, I see what this is! You're trying to secure your roll as the prettiest by throwing a shoe at my face and disfiguring me! You're trying to make it so that nobody can seize your crown of prettiness. I see this plot for what it is, Yoo Youngjae!"

He lunges forward and grabs Youngjae around the waist. His hands find the hem of Youngjae's shirt and are quick, tickling. Youngjae squirms and struggles and twists … and they both roll right off the couch. They land on the hard floor with a thud.

"Ouch," Daehyun says, rubbing his head. "You didn't have to do that."

"Tickling is cause for immediate retaliation." Himchan hyung wrote that in to the dorm rules. "Sorry, though."

"It's okay," Daehyun says, sitting up. "And hey, quit worrying about what the fans say about you." He waves his hand in front of Youngjae's face. "The stuff that makes you so great isn't up here --" and then he taps Youngjae right in the middle of his chest " -- it's in here."

Youngjae nods. "Thanks, Daehyun."

"Any time, cutie."


	18. prompt - BAP will attempt a Bollywood drama scene.

"You want us to be what?" Youngjae and Daehyun stand shoulder to shoulder, their arms crossed.

"Playback singers," Himchan says, annoyed. He's explained this already. "You're going to stand over there and sing while we act out ..."

Daehyun huffs. "So you want to hide us behind a curtain and then take advantage of our voices?"

Youngjae does not look pleased. "We should get to be in the stupid movie if we're singing."

They just don't get it. Himchan sighs. "The whole point of ..."

"Hyung," Junhong calls. He's in the bedroom getting changed. "Hyung, I don't think this costume fits me the right way."

"Junhong, come out here." Really, Himchan doesn't have time for all of this.

Junhong makes a distressed noise. "Hyung, I don't want to."

"Junhong, you agreed. Now come on out."

Junhong slowly opens the bedroom door and steps out. He is wearing blue satin shalwar embroidered in gold, a matching bikini top that betrays his obvious lack of endowment and bares his pale stomach, and a gossamer shawl edged in tiny, twinkling bells.

Everyone bursts out laughing.

His expression darkens. "I'm not doing it."

"But you look really pretty, Junhong!" Jongup says. As the comedic relief best friend, he doesn't have to wear anything weirder than an ugly sweater (which is actually much tamer than what the coordis make them wear on a regular basis).

Junhong glares.

Himchan scrunches his nose. "I thought this would be fun for you, kids."

"No," Youngjae says, "You just wanted Yongguk hyung to woo you."

"And to make Junhong dress up as a girl," Daehyun adds.

They are the most unhelpful pair.

Junhong's lower lip wobbles, and he slams the door shut. "I'm not doing it, hyung. You dress up as the wily temptress, if you want to film the stupid movie."

"Yeah, Himchan hyung," Daehyun says. "We're not doing it either. This is lame."

Youngjae nods.

"Sorry, hyung," Jongup says. "Maybe if we dress up as pirates next time, Junhong will like it better. I bet he'd really like a parrot."

What did Himchan ever do to be burdened with these people?

He's up on the roof sulking when Yongguk finds him. The sun is setting over the Han River, and the distant mountains are navy and purple against the golden sky. It's chilly, and he wraps his arms around himself.

Yongguk comes up behind him. Himchan looks over his shoulder. "Bang," he says. "I have something to tell you."

"Go on," Yongguk says.

Himchan swallows. "Bang, I love you."

Yongguk stares.

Himchan rolls his eyes. "You're all the worst. I'm acting, Bang. Maybe I should ask the company to get me a drama gig or something, since apparently I'm so convincing."

Yongguk grins. "Right." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry you couldn't make your movie, Himchannie. The kids are making dinner."

He heads towards the stairwell.

"If he's in love with me," Himchan says under his breath, "He'll turn around."

Bang pauses and looks back, waiting.

Himchan goes to him.


	19. can you write a himjae based on the photo that youngjae posted (in the bookstore) and himchan's tweet to him? :'D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (anon i'm sorry this took so long and is so weird anyway :| Based on these two tweets: http://itsbap.com/post/45158170731/130312-twitter-youngjae & http://itsbap.com/post/45159376826/130312-twitter-himchan)

When Youngjae sees what Himchan's tweeted in reply to his picture, he rolls his eyes. Sometimes, his hyung is so embarrassing.

Later, he's back at the dorm, he finds Himchan hyung while he's playing on his computer and says, "Listen, if you want to make fun of me, just do it to my face, okay?"

Himchan frowns at him. "Rude."

"What's rude?" Youngjae seriously doesn't get this hyung, sometimes. "I'd prefer you keep the mocking where the however many thousands of people who follow you on twitter can't see it."

"Just rude," Himchan says again, shaking his head. "I try to pay a handsome guy a compliment and this is the thanks I get."

Ugh. Himchan is the worst, honestly. "Just cut it out," Youngjae says. "Why don't you go make fun of Daehyunnie? He gets way angrier than I do, anyway."

Himchan sets down his laptop -- Youngjae can see he's in the fancafe again. If he weren't in B.A.P, he'd probably be their biggest fan. "Who, exactly, is the visual in this group, again?"

Youngjae rolls his eyes. He got into this to be a singer. All these other titles and roles and identities make sense, but they are just a bit silly. "You are, hyung," he admits, grudgingly.

Himchan nods, satisfied. "Right. And as the acknowledged visual, don't you think I'm the one who should be determines who's good looking?"

Youngjae shrugs. "Yeah, sure. I guess."

"Well," Himchan says. "Then it's decided." He picks his laptop up and starts scrolling through the fan cafe.

"What's decided?" Youngjae thinks they may possibly have been having two totally separate conversations.

"You're handsome," he says.

Youngjae scowls. "I told you to stop making fun of me."

Himchan sighs, huge and dramatic. "Youngjae-yah, listen to me. Now, I'm not saying you're as handsome as I am -- let's be honest here, not many are -- but you have your charms."

If he is making fun, it's really not very funny any more. He drops onto the couch and folds his arms over his chest. "A lot of good having charms does me." He knows he's not exactly the fan favorite.

Himchan reaches up and pats him on the cheek. "You have your admirers, Youngjae-yah. Trust me."

Youngjae's cheeks go hot. Himchan just grins that big, dopey grin of his and keeps lurking to see what their fans have to say.


	20. Flowershop AU Where SECRET brings all the boys to the yard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on this picture(?) http://24.media.tumblr.com/3e6da4987e8d9627f4f6c7b23efb6abf/tumblr_mlr7ieNopC1r3lz0jo1_500.jpg

When Hyosung volunteers to run the flower sale to benefit the senior class, of course Jieun, Hana, and Sunhwa do too -- begrudgingly.

"We should do something more exciting," Sunhwa says. "Like a fortune telling booth."

"Can you tell fortunes?" Hyosung asks.

Sunhwa narrows her eyes. "I can tell enough to know that nobody's going to want to buy some stupid plants."

The morning of the sale, Hyosung is confident, though. The flowers are wrapped in pretty foil, and they're all dressed up. The sky is bright, and she knows they're going to do well today.

Sure enough, there's a customer waiting before they're even done setting up.

"Hello sir!" She smiles her widest smile. "What can I help you with today?"

"Um. I'll buy one." He hands over the money, and Hyosung grins triumphantly.

"That doesn't count," Sunhwa says.

"Yeah," Hana says. "Yonggukkie doesn't count. Jieun made him."

Yongguk shakes his head. "I wanted to make a small contribution to the senior class," he says. Hana rolls her eyes. He shuffles from foot to foot awkwardly. Jieun, who is tidying the cash box, looks up.

"This is for you," he says, handing her over the flower.

Even though they spent the morning unloading and foiling a gross of them, she beams like it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. "Thank you, sweetie!"

Yongguk smiles his gummy smile.

Behind their backs, Sunhwa mimes gagging.

Okay, so Yonggukkie is kind of a given, but Hyosung is buoyed when another customer walks up almost right away.

"Give me the most beautiful flower you've got," Kwanghee says. He's loud and brash and has done the morning announcements since they were all in grade school.

He's been in love with Sunhwa nearly as long. She has her arms crossed and is staring intently the other way.

Hyosung is very mature and running the flower sale is a very important responsibility. She tries hard to keep a straight face as she hands Kwanghee a pot of ruffled tulips wrapped in pink foil. He smooths his hair back and sidles over to Sunhwa.

"Han Sunhwa, has anyone told you yet this morning that you look especially radiant? The beauty of these flowers reflects and amplifies your own beauty. Your cheeks are redder than these tulips. Your hair is ..."

She shoves him hard, but her cheeks are red. "Can it, Kwanghee."

"Hey! Can't you appreciate a gesture? I'm trying to be nice here."

"Hmmm," Sunhwa says. "I don't buy it."

Kwanghee opens his mouth to protest, but she cuts him off -- "I'll take your flower though. Only because it's for a good cause."

He hands it to her, and grins, triumphant. "See you later, my love!"

She makes a face at him, but Hyosung catches her staring at the flower and smiling to herself when she thinks nobody is looking.

They do a brisk business all morning. Hyosung smiles and greets and sells flowers like it's what she was born to do. They are raising money for scholarships! It's a good thing. 

After lunch two boys that she recognizes from around but don't know by name walk up to the table, shoulder to shoulder.

"Daehyun, Youngjae, hi!" Jieun says. "Daehyun and Youngjae are in chorus with me."

They smile and wave. They're a few years younger, and both good looking in a dopey boyish kind of way.

"I'm going first," Daehyun whispers loudly, shoving Youngjae to the side.

"No," Youngjae says. "I am."

"Woah, woah," Hana says. "What's the problem here? Can't you see there's four of us? I'm pretty sure we can manage to sell flowers to the two of you at once."

"Nuna," Daehyun says. "I'm sorry. My friend Youngjae is .."

"Hey! Me?" Youngjae narrows his eyes. "It was your idea to ..."

"No, it was your idea to ..."

"Yeah, but you ..."

"Well, I didn't ..."

"Time out!" Hyosung glances at the table and picks two absolutely identical pots of violets. "Hand over your money, please."

They hand over their money and take the flowers. Then, they turn to Hana.

"Nuna," they say in one voice. "Will you take these flowers?" They each push forward with their tokens of affection.

Hana grins, amused. "You two just the most adorable things I've ever seen." She considers each of them in turn. Youngjae blushes and hides behind his fringe, and Daehyun stares at his feet. "You seem like really good friends, and I wouldn't want to come between that. She reaches out and takes both pots of flowers. "Luckily, I don't think I'll have to."

Hana laughs and scribbles something on a piece of paper -- her number, Hyosung has no doubt. She hands it over to them. Youngjae squeaks. Daehyun stares at it like it's as precious as gold. They stare at her, blinking, then mumble some sort of jumbled thanks (or apologies?) and scurry off.

"They're just kids," Hyosung says, smiling. "Don't mess with them."

Hana shrugs. "They're juniors, and they're cute. Besides, dating younger men is a trend around here."

Hyosung huffs and turns to help another customer who's come up.

By the end of the day, they've sold nearly all the plants, and Hyosung is finishing things up on her own. Jieun and Sunhwa had to leave to head to chorus practice, and Hana had to head to cheer practice. Hyosung doesn't mind. She's in charge, and it's her job to make sure things finish up properly. She glances at the clock, and frowns. She hadn't really expected ...

"Boo!" Someone puts their hands over her eyes. She shrieks.

It's Himchan.

"You jerk!" She pokes him in the chest. "I told you not to scare me like that."

He grins at her. "Sorry, nuna."

"I thought you weren't going to show up," she says.

Himchan shrugs. "I don't need any flowers," he says. "I've already got something that's much prettier."

He slides his arm around her waist. She lets him, but she snorts. "That was terrible."

"I know," he says.

She giggles.

"Love you, nuna," he says.

"Love you too, Channie," she says, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.


	21. prompt - Daehyun is too forward with his admiration for Jongup's arms.

"Our Jonguppie's body value is like that of a twenty five year old," Daehyun says, and he taps Jongup on the back, pushing him forward, into the spotlight.

Jongup is used to it by now. He does what he's been told to do: bare his arms, flex his muscle, and smile.

Still.

"Our Jonguppie has the best body." Daehyun waves a hand like he's presenting some prize specimen or something. "Our Jonguppie has abs that can't be beat." Daehyun lifts the hem of Jongup's shirt. "Jonguppie's body is the tops, definitely." Daehyun squeezes his arm, hard.

He can't say why, but Jongup doesn't really like it.

In the car, after their schedule, Jongup rubs the sore spot on his arm. Daehyun's arms may be spindly, but he is very strong. Jongup bets there'll be a bruise there, in the morning.

"Hyung," he says, nudging Daehyun. "Hyung, you know I'm not a loaf of bread, right?"

Daehyun's eyes go wide. "I didn't think you were a loaf of bread, Jongup-ah."

"But hyung," Jongup says. "You're always ... you know." He mimes squishing something.

Daehyun raises an eyebrow and shakes his head.

Ah, maybe he doesn't know. "When you buy a loaf of bread you're supposed to squish it to see if it's fresh." Jongup's mom taught him that. "But I'm not a loaf of bread. Stop squishing me." He stares at his lap. It's hard for him to tell the hyungs stuff like this.

"Jonguppie," Daehyun says. "I'm sorry. I know you're not a loaf of bread. You've got a really great body. You should be proud. I would be if I were you."

"I know I'm not a good singer like you or Youngjae hyung, and I can't rap like Yongguk hyung or Junhonggie, and I'm not funny and handsome like Himchan hyung. But you don't have to point out my body every time. I didn't do anything special to look this way, you know?"

Daehyun nods. "I'm sorry, Jonguppie. I didn't realize I was making you feel uncomfortable."

"It's okay," Jongup says. And really, it is.

Daehyun sighs. "I guess this means you're not going to share your super top secret for getting buff with me, huh?"

Jongup shakes his head. There really is no secret. "You could always go to the gym."

"Ugh," Daehyun says. "No thanks. Clearly I'm not blessed in the body department. I'll just resign myself to a lifetime of scrawny-hood."

"Is that a word?" Jongup asks. "Scrawny-hood?"

Daehyun grins. "Yeah. It's the opposite of Jonguppiness."

Jongup rolls his eyes, but he smiles. Daehyun hyung is really weird, but Jonguppiness he can handle.


	22. Prompt-Banghim are old fashioned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so schmoopy sorry anon ;_;

Himchan doesn't remember exactly the moment his feelings for Yongguk shifted from friendship into love. It just happened naturally, the same way that Yongguk's initial indifference and even distaste all those years ago gave way to cautious camaraderie. He does remember the moment he decided he'd let Yongguk be his boyfriend, though.

They were in the studio late -- Himchan doesn't have any particular faculty with lyrics but he's inarguably better than Yongguk at composing. In spite of the way it got played up in those early years, he didn't just learn to play the janggu to have something to bring up on variety shows. Himchan sat at one end of the couch with his head thrown back, staring up at the sound board ceiling. Yongguk was at the console, fiddling. Then, he stood up.

"If you're tired," he'd said, "go to sleep."

"I want to stay here with you, Bbang," Himchan said, without thinking.

And Yongguk had smiled then (that stupid, perfect smile) and walked across the room and sat down right next to Himchan even though there were acres of couch real estate left. He'd leaned forward and for a moment HImchan didn't know what was happening. Then long-dormant memories from before he'd ever been crazy enough to decide to be an idol resurfaced. Kissing. Right. That's what this was.

He put a hand up, quick. Yongguk ended up kissing his palm. His face went blank, and Himchan saw the bright light in his eyes start to dim.

"No, you idiot," he said, grabbing hold of Yongguk's arm. "But if we're going to do this, we should do it the right way. I want you to woo me."

Maybe it's kind of foolish. Maybe Himchan likes watching old movies a little too much. Either way, he's a bit of a romantic at heart.

They all know about how idols date: car rides late at night, holding hands in the waiting room, exchanging smiles on the Inkigayo stage as the winner is announced. If both companies are lenient, maybe visits to each other's dorms. Maybe.

Himchan doesn't want that.

Instead he and Yongguk take walks together in the evening when the weather is nice. They walk along the Han River with their hands in their pockets and they talk. It's funny, because they spend almost every waking hour together, but they never run out of things to talk about. Maybe it's because the words don't matter as much as the knowledge that they're learning each other, in a slow, steady, cautious way.

Four months after that night in the studio, Himchan takes Yongguk's hand when they're standing in a little bit of deserted park, hidden from the path by a screen of trees, and he kisses him cautiously, and then a little less so. 

Once in a while they go out to dinner. Daehyun inevitably protests until Manager Kang promises to take him and the kids out for barbecue. They look up restaurants online to try. Yongguk likes to try new things, and Himchan likes to eat. It's nice to have enough money now not to have to go to food carts. They're never going to be the most popular group in the world, but they've done well and found enough success.

There's never a lot of time or space. Their dorm is bigger now but they're still two to a room, and Himchan likes sharing with Jongup, anyway. If that means that their skinship is limited to holding hands when they're both in the back of the van, or a casual lingering brush of Yongguk's lips against Himchan's cheeks, that's okay. He's not an idiot. He knows what they're not doing. He wants all of that too. But he figures they'll have forever for that. There's no need to rush.

One night a long time after they debut, they are sitting on the balcony of their dorm. It's a cold night and Himchan is pressed against Yongguk's side. They've moved again, and this dorm is bigger again and very nice. If they aren't the most popular group now, they're one of them, and it's strange to look back and think of their own rookie days. They've still got time, but now Himchan is looking forward: to enlistment, to hiatus, to the long, long days after: the rest of their lives together.

"Bbang," he says. "If we could -- after we enlist, I mean -- would you …" It's silly. He can't bring himself to say it.

Yongguk squeezes his hand. "What?"

Himchan coughs. "Would you make an honest man of me?"

Yongguk grins at him. "What do you think?"

Himchan rolls his eyes. "I think I had no idea how insufferable you could be when I got into this."

Yongguk pouts. His aegyo is still terrible, but Himchan would be lying if he didn't admit he fall for it every time. "Oh, don't be like that."

Yongguk gets serious, then. "You know I would, though." He looks down. "I've thought about it often, actually. Doing something with a ring and flowers. Even though we can't really get married, I thought you'd like it."

"You better have come up with something more exciting than a ring and flowers." Himchan crosses his arms. "If we could …"

"If we could," Yongguk agrees. "But I don't think it matters."

Himchan knows it doesn't, and yet he wishes …

"We've been like an old married couple almost since we met, after all."

Himchan struggles not to smile. "That's not true," he says. "You didn't like me at first. You thought I was talentless."

Yongguk shakes his head. "No," he says. "I was intimidated. Even then, I liked you."

"Even then?"

Yongguk squeezes his hand again. "Are you surprised?"

Himchan shakes his head no, and presses closer to Yongguk. "Even then."


	23. Prompt - To Youngjae, it's always Daehyun.

All of the most successful boy groups have had five members. Youngjae knows that; when the company told them they were going to create a five member group, it made sense. Why mess with a successful formula?

Five is a good number, but two and two make four. Sandwiched between the hyungs and the maknae line, the singer in a group of rappers, he knows he would have been the odd one out. Instead, they found Daehyun, and he found his best friend.

Daehyun is there when Youngjae is tired and grumpy in the morning, when he wants to stay in bed with floppy unstyled hair and play games on his iPad. Without saying anything he lets Youngjae know he agrees that yeah, boy, does their schedule ever suck. Daehyun can't change it, but just his sympathy makes Youngjae feel better.

Daehyun is there when Youngjae can't reach the high notes. That's what they found him for, and he came in and eased that burden without ever making Youngjae feel bad or like he failed. They don't need to compete because they both get to do what they love (and they get to do it together).  
Youngjae is there when Daehyun wants to sneak out during dance practice and get snacks at the store across the street. He's also there when they have a rare moment free and Daehyun says something that reminds them all that he only came to Seoul eighteen months ago, and there's still a lot he doesn't know.

They're together in vocal practice, which they have much more often than the others. They're together in the dorm, in the van, backstage, in the dance studio. They present a united front when Himchan hyung tries to bully them into running errands. They make faces at each other in fan signs and have stages together in concerts and even MC together, once.

Youngjae remembers the feeling he felt when the company told them that they were looking for another vocalist. He'd left JYP with a bitter taste in his mouth and a hope that he'd find something better. When they told him they were looking for another vocalist, for a minute it felt the door might be slamming shut on his dreams.

Instead, it's the best thing that's ever happened to him. Is it dumb to say that? He doesn't know. But he knows that one day in the (far, far) future the B.A.P will be over and all they'll have is memories.

He can't ever think of a day when Daehyun won't be his best friend, though.

The door to the van slides open, and Daehyun climbs in. He's got a packet of candies in his hand.

"You found sustenance? You'll make it home without dying?"

Daehyun gives him a dirty look. "See if I share with you."

"You weren't going to anyway."

Daehyun shakes his head as he tears the packet open. He makes a disgusted face. He sorts out the purple candies and tips them candies into Youngjae's hand. "Eww, grape."

"Oh. Gee. Thanks." Youngjae roll his eyes. "What did I do to deserve such a great pal?"

"Shut up," Daehyun says. "You love me."

Youngjae just shoves the candies in his mouth because, well. Yeah.


	24. prompt: manager kang gets a free trip to saipan to help SECRET Shoot yoohoo... B.A.P sulks

"Why do you look so tense, oppa?" Jieun throws up her arms and twirls around. "It's so beautiful here!"

It really is beautiful. The girls are all radiant and happy, and all the staff are in a good mood.

Kang would be too. It's just, back in Seoul …

_Hyung d u remember where we put that lubricant we bought 4 my skate board?_

_ㅋㅋㅋㅋ don't say lubricant junhong its a bad word ㅋㅋ_

_Himchan, don't say dirty things to the maknae._

_banggie, you're no fun_

Kang cannot remember know why he thought having a group line chat was a good idea.

They're staying at a gorgeous resort, and after the shoot for the day is over the entire staff gathers for food and beer. Palm trees sway in the breeze, and there's pretty music playing. Sunhwa leans over. "Oppa, try this." She feeds him a bit of something for her plate.

"Trying to make Kwanghee jealous?"

She shorts. "Can't I be nice to my favorite manager oppa?"

It's much later when he checks his phone. He has a message from Yongguk.

_Don't worry hyung ^^ Everything is fine! Hope you're having fun with the girls!_

He shakes his head. He's not worried, but as dumb as it sounds he misses those kids.

The second day of filming is long. In the afternoon, Hana has her bruised and battered makeup on; he's supposed to be keeping her out of the sun so it doesn't run, but she just snorted and grabbed the umbrella he tried to hold over her head.

"I don't need you to hold this thing," she grumbles. "Do I have hands or not?"

"You have hands," he agrees. He isn't one to mess with Jung Hana.

He takes out his phone and opens his chat with the kids. Well. They've been busy.

_Yah! Youngjae, we agreed upon hamburgers. We voted and AGREED. If you come back here with anything but hamburgers I'm going to …_

_ㅎㅎㅎ What are you going to do Jung Daehyun? If you wanted hamburgers you should have gone to pick up the food. ㅎㅋ_

_Hyungs, if you fight again I'm going to have to separate you. Kang hyung left me instructions._

_Jongup, you're a punk._

_Daehyun and I could take you, Jongup._

_Hey! Leave Jongup out of this, kids or Himchan hyung will get involved!!_

_ㅎㅎㅎWhat are you going to do hyung ㅎㅎ_

_ah ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ Really hyung_

Hana, reading over his shoulder, snorts. "What punks. You should knock some sense into them, oppa."

"I've tried, Hana," he says. "They've got really hard heads."

She laughs. "I'd like to see them try that stuff the next time they see noona."

He snorts. They all -- and especially Youngjae and Daehyun -- turn into stuttering, stammering, blushing idiots around Secret. It's hilarious. 

He's sitting with Hyosung on the final day of filming. Their shoes are off and their feet are dangling in the water. "Ah, this has been so much fun!" She grins. "But honestly, I'm excited to go home."

"Me too."

"You miss your girlfriend, and that cutie Cappucino, I bet."

Kang nods.

Just then, his phone buzzes. It's a text from Himchannie, with a picture attached. They're in the dorm -- he can recognize the Pokemon poster on the wall that some fan gave Jongup -- and all their stupid faces are smooched into the frame. They're all pouting -- even Yongguk! -- and Junhong mimes crying.

_hyung hurry back! we miss you!!_

"You miss them, too, huh?"

Kang nods. "Yeah," he says. "I mean, they're kind of idiots, but they're my idiots."


	25. prompt: jongup is good at hiding his fanboy tendencies... or so he thought

Their fans are really amazing. Jongup thinks that more and more every day. They wait in lines in the early dawn, they are as skilled as professional photographers, they are overwhelming in their kindness and goodness.

Sometimes he thinks being a fan of an idol group -- one of the really, really devoted fans -- might be harder than being in an idol group.

Jongup understands what it's like to like something that much, but if the tables were turned and he were in their shoes, he's not sure he could go to the lengths they go. Not because he minds being tired or hungry or waiting out in the cold -- that stuff's not so bad. No, it's because he gets embarrassed.

Maybe that's dumb. He's not sure. He realizes it doesn't make a ton of sense that he can do that goofy dance for Crash without batting an eye but when Daehyun and Youngjae try to get him to go up to Lee Hi back stage and tell her how much he likes her music he turns into a stumbling, tongue-tied fool. There's something totally different about doing goofy things for the group (even if sometimes he does think the hyungs might be a little too goofy) and admitting that he's someone's fan.

He's gotten good at hiding it. It was years before they realized how much he liked Pokemon. They all had things they did in their free time, and he didn't make a big deal out of it, like Himchan hyung did with his guitar playing or Youngjae did with his computer games. It was Junhong that caught on, eventually. In the back of the van on their way to and from music programs he'd look over Jongup's shoulder and cheer him on as he battled his way through eight gym leaders (and then eight more, and then …).

"No, hyung, why are you using Fearow? Shouldn't you use a ground type against this one?"

Jongup shakes his head. "Mmmm. No." His Fearow kills the enemy's Pokemon in one attack.

"Wow," Junhong says. "You're really good at this, hyung. You must play a lot."

Jongup nods. "I like it," he says, quietly.

After that sometimes he'd find a pack of Pokemon cards or a little figurine or something on his pillow. He'd pocket the offerings without saying a word, but he'd smile when Junhong looked at him inquiringly.

It's not so bad with things like that, but when the hyungs make fun of him about his crush on Lee Hi it's not fun at all. He doesn't think he has a crush on her. He's not sure how they can tell. He just really likes her voice -- and it's a great voice, so why is that a surprise? He just likes to go watch her stages, because her awkward dancing is so cute and she looks sometimes like she's kind of lost (the way he feels). When he passes her in the hallway she bows to him and murmurs a greeting (it's crazy to think that he's her sunbae …). They never talk other than that, but he's perfectly fine with it. The hyungs are just making up stories about his undying love for her. 

They're in an interview one time and the host asks him, "Jongup-goon, who do you think is a better dance between you and Zelo?"

Jongup nods. "Truthfully I think it's Zelo," he says. He does think that's the truth.

Himchan hyung rolls his eyes. "Our Jongup is modest to the point of being an idiot about it."

Junhong nods. "Jongup hyung is the better dancer."

"No," Jongup says. "Our styles are different, but Junhong is as good as me and he's younger, so doesn't that make him better?"

Neither the hosts nor any of the hyungs seem to be able to get around that logic. Jongup nods, satisfied.

Backstage, after the show, Junhong corners him. "Hyung, you don't have to say I'm a good dancer."

"But you are." Jongup's not making up stories. He's just telling it as he sees it.

"But you should say you're the best dancer," Junhong says, insistent.

Jongup shakes his head. "But I like your dancing, Junhonggie."

Suddenly there's a heavy weight on his back. Himchan hyung grabs his shoulders. "He's your number one fan, Junhonggie."

Jongup frowns. "No, I just …"

"You're the president of the Choi Junhong fan club," Himchan singsongs.

"No, I just …"

"You've got a whole scrapbook full of Choi Junhong memorabilia."

"No!" Jongup shrugs off Himchan hyung in a brusque motion. "I just like him, okay?"

Junhong turns red. Jongup realizes what he's said.

Himchan is delighted. "Oh, I know, Jongup-ah. We all know!" He goes to share his giddy news with Youngjae and Daehyun (or whoever he can find, probably).

Jongup stares at the floor. "I do like you," he says. "I'm your fan, Junhong."

Junhong grins at him, so his still-round cheeks bunch up. "I'm your fan too, hyung."


	26. prompt: Jieun sings and Yongguk treads carefully

Her voice is what he fell in love with first. It seems like a long time ago now when he'd been waiting in a hallway in the company building for manager hyung and he'd heard her voice -- rich and strong, with surprising power. He listened as she sang. The pre-recorded backing track ended, and she went silent. The door to the practice room was open, and he glanced inside. She took her headphones off, and shook out her hair. He was surprised. He knew Secret -- or he'd looked up their music after he passed the audition anyway -- but he hadn't thought ...

"Hello," she said, smiling.

"Ah," he said. "Hello. Your voice ..."

She smiled. "You must be Bang Yongguk-ssi. Kang oppa told me about you."

"It's nice to meet you," he said.

"You too," she said. "And thank you."

The manager hyung had finished his business then and called Yongguk away, but he did not forget her voice.

They got to know each other in dribs and drabs: passing each other in the hall and in the dance studio at the company building -- the trainees for the boy group practiced late, after Secret was finished -- and when Manager Kang invited everyone out for barbeque that one time. But somehow by the time the president announced that Yongguk would be featuring on Jieun's solo, it didn't seem strange at all. They were already old friends.

If things changed when they promoted Going Crazy, well, it was only to be expected. He spent more time with her -- saw her brightness, her tender heart, the way she lived life with an easy delight, like a feather floating up and down as the wind caught it. If he fell in love with the rest of her then, it was not really that surprising.

When he thinks of her and his heart goes quick, it's her voice he thinks of first, though.

Today she is singing again. Secret and B.A.P have come back at the same time, and they're going through the variety show paces. He closes his eyes and listens, and thinks, 'I love her. I love her. I love her.'

The song ends, and he applauds politely.

The hosts nod in pleasure. "Bang Yongguk-ssi, you promoted with Song Jieun-ssi. What do you think of her voice?"

He is taken aback, for just a moment. "Jieunnie ..." He catches himself just in time. "Song Jieun-sunbaenim is very talented. I hope one day in the future we can collaborate again."

They are satisfied with the answer, and turn to bother someone else. He glances at her. She is smiling, and when she sees him looking, her smile broadens into a grin.

He smiles back, and then ducks his head.

One day, they won't have to play these games. One day.


	27. Daehyun is Youngjae's no 1 fan coughssasaengcoughs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daehyun doesn't strike me as having a very 'fannish' personality /o\ I tried, anon! ALSO PS STALKING IS REALLY BAD!

He's there, again, when Youngjae gets home at quarter after one in the morning. He's sleeping, his head drooping, nose nearly to his chest. He nudges him in the thigh with his shoe.

"Hey. Come on, get up. Don't make me call the cops again."

Youngjae loves his fans -- even the ones that do weird things like sleep outside his house -- and he really doesn't want to call the cops. Not even on Daehyun. He nudges him again.

With a start Daehyun's head jerks upright. He blinks, sleepily. "Oh, Youngjae-ssi." He grins. "Did I fall asleep here again?"

Youngjae nods, impatient. "What do you want? Another autograph? How many is it, now?"

Daehyun looks thoughtful. "This would be sixty eight."

Youngjae shakes his head, and reaches into his bag for a pen. "What are you going to do with them all?"

Daehyun shrugs. "Keep them, of course." Then, he looks bright. "Oh! I made you some cookies." He takes a tupperware container out of his backpack, but when he opens it, his face falls. "I guess I ate them all while I was waiting."

Youngjae shakes his head. "You're really bad at being an crazy stalker fan. You ate all my cookies, and you never follow me anywhere."

Daehyun rolls his eyes. "Well why would I do that when it's so much easier just to wait for you here?"

Youngjae sighs. "Are you going back to Busan tonight?"

Daehyun glances down at his cellphone. Youngjae can see the bar is perilously close to empty. "I'm going to have to get the morning bus, I guess. I really didn't mean to fall asleep."

Before he says it, Youngjae knows this could be a spectacular mistake. Still, at the end of the day, Daehyun is his fan and is going through these lengths for him. Doesn't that make him kind of responsible? He squeezes his eyes shut. "Why don't you come inside? You can charge your phone at least ..."

Daehyun beams, eyes huge and smile bright. "Really? You'd let me come in and use one of your outlets? I don't know ..."

He's interrupted by a loud grumble. It takes Youngjae a moment to realize it's Daehyun's stomach.

"I can probably scrounge up a packet of ramen too." He gets his keys out of his pocket, and unlocks the door. "Come on."

Daehyun hesitates.

"What?"

"I don't know if I should ..."  
"You want to sleep in the bus station with a dead phone?" Daehyun's been doing this for like six months, and nothing so far has suggested he's that crazy (well, other than the whole kinda stalking bit).

"No, but ..." Daehyun frowns. "If you do this, does this mean I'm your friend?"

Youngjae thinks. "Yeah, I think it does."

Daehyun sighs. "I don't think I can be your fan any more if I'm your friend."

Youngjae opens his mouth to protest, but Daehyun isn't finished.

"But it's okay. I think I'll like this better." He smiles, and follows Youngjae inside.


	28. prompt: Daehyun has always been a strange mix of anxiety and bravado. But not everyone can see through all that lip. (In more ways than one? I think for many people, especially younger fans, his looks obscure his true personality.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Daehyun has always been a strange mix of anxiety and bravado. But not everyone can see through all that lip. (In more ways than one? I think for many people, especially younger fans, his looks obscure his true personality.)

Daehyun's voice has always given him a way out.

As a kid with scraped up knees he talked himself out of trouble when playground games of tag got too rough. The teacher, stern with arms folded, couldn't stand a chance in the face of Daehyun's flood of explanation: "Teacher, it wasn't anyone's fault. Eunmae was running so fast that only Chaehyo had a chance to catch her so she took off towards the swing set and then Dongmin thought maybe if he came around the other side of the seesaw he could head them off but Eunmae's shoelaces were untied so I was going to let her know so she didn't trip and hurt herself but I think when she saw me coming she thought I was 'it' and was trying to get her out even though it was really Chaehyo and Dongmin's team that was it. I didn't mean to push her, honestly. I was just trying to let her know her shoelace was untied."

Suspicious, the teacher nodded. "Okay," she said. "But please try to be more careful next time, Daehyun."

Daehyun agreed solemnly but he was secretly rejoicing. He'd been so scared that this time he'd finally get in trouble.

Later, his voice lifted him out of the mediocrity of a not-so-stellar middle school career into the plum spot of prized pupil at Nataraja Academy. He wasn't really book smart and he didn't like to study much, but teacher told him his voice is special, he was good, he had what it took to make it if he tried hard. He did try hard, and he did sing well, but even so in the end it seemed like pure luck that he got that call to audition for TS and agreed to take the train up to Seoul. Not hard work at all, just his good fortune to be born able to sing high notes and the random happenstance of a phone call he picked up, rather than let go to his voice mail.

His voice lifted him out of Busan, lifted him out of obscurity, lifted him so far and so fast that sometimes he wonders how people haven't seen right through him. Twenty months after he took that call on the train back from Seoul to Busan, he kneels down back stage in a theater just feet from the startling, blinding lights of Time Square and tries to calm his pounding heart. Those fans out there are here for them -- for him! -- and even though he's here to sing he feels suddenly mute.

They rehearsed all the in-between song banter. Daehyun knows what he's going to say. They've rehearsed it and rehearsed it and he knows it cold, but it feels like he might step out there and open his mouth and find himself with no words to cover up all the places the bright stage lights strip him bare. All those fans out there will realize that behind that big voice, he's really just a lot of hot air ... 

"Hey," Youngjae says, putting his hand on Daehyun's shoulder. "Almost time. You ready?"

Daehyun looks up and nods.

Youngjae shakes his head. He's calm enough, before they perform. He enjoys it a lot, as much as Yongguk hyung does. "Don't get all flaky on me, Jung Daehyun."

Daehyun gets up. "Hey -- I'm not! I'm just -- it's easy for you to say. You're the best at English. I'm ..."

Youngjae rolls his eyes. "You're fine," he says. "But here. I wrote your stuff down for you anyway."

Youngjae's handwriting is equally bad whether he's using the Roman alphabet or hangul. The ink is a little bit smudged. Sweaty palms. Behind his calm excitement, Daehyun knows Youngjae is as nervous as anyone.

The crowd is getting louder. He can hear them chanting names -- B.A.P, Bang Yongguk, Kim Himchan, Jung Daehyun ...

How can they care that much about some big nosed kid from the boondocks? It doesn't make any sense.

Youngjae smiles at him. "Don't be nervous," he says. "If you screw up I'll cover for you."

Daehyun huffs. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Youngjae punches him in the shoulder, hard. "No problem. Vocal line has to stick together, right?"

Daehyun thinks about how easy it would have been for Youngjae to hate him, back in the beginning. It would have been so easy for him to be mean or resentful that the stupid kid from Busan that waltzed in and stole more than his fair share of the spotlight. It's never been like that though -- maybe because Youngjae secretly has the patience of a saint --- well, hah, that's not likely.

Or maybe it's just that at the end of the day, when they've sung everything that needs to be sung and said everything that needs to be said, they're friends. No more explanation needed.

Manager Kang is calling for everyone.

"Come on kids!"

"Come on," Youngjae echos, grabbing Daehyun's hand. "Let's go have fun. And don't worry, I've got your back."

Daehyun nods. That he has no problem believing.


	29. prompt: Zinger has always just been Hana to Himchan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Zinger has always just been Hana to Himchan

"You know," Himchan says, sidling closer and bumping his shoulder into hers, "you've always just been Hana to me."

Hana narrows her eyes and takes a sip of her iced coffee. Somehow, in spite of herself, she and Himchan have been dating for a year and a half. After so long, she is on guard. Romantic gestures are usually not what they seem.

"Oh yeah?"

Himchan nods. "Yeah," he says. He pauses a moment, for dramatic effect. "Because you're number one in my heart."

She stares.

"Get it? Hana? Number one?" His stupid eager face is as stupidly eager as ever.

"I'm gonna give that three stars out of five," she says. "Decent execution, but intolerably corny."

Himchan pouts and rests his head on her shoulder. "That's it? I spent forever coming up with that one?"

She pats his head. "Sorry, Channie. Keep trying."

"Can I at least get a kiss?" He sticks his lips out so he looks like a duck and flutters his eyelashes.

(He's got really nice eyelashes.)

"Fine," she says, after a moment, "But only because you tried so hard." She goes to kiss him on the cheek, and he slips his hand around her waist and turns his head so her kiss catches the corner of his mouth.

"How was that?" He asks, leaning close.

She won't ever, ever, ever admit that she feels a bit giddy. "Much better," she says. "Four and a half stars."

He smiles. "I only have one star," he says. "You."

She shoves him away. "Okay, I take it all back. No credit. All previous stars are null and void now."

He sulks and puts his head in her lap. "I'm just trying to be dashing and romantic," he mutters.

"Baby," she says, "Leave that to people who don't rely on puns. I just need you to be you."

He smiles then, smug and satisfied. Hana shakes her head. Seriously, Kim Himchan.


	30. prompt: zelo can do anything he sets his mind to... maybe

There's never enough space in the van for everything: six tired guys and Manager hyung and the stylist noona with her makeup case and blow dryer and the costumes and whatever letters and gifts the fans have given them that day.

Junhong has to sit in the back, because he's the youngest. Youngjae sits on one side, messing with his iPad, and Daehyun sits on the other.

"Can't you move over?" Youngjae says, frowning. His elbow is digging into Junhong's side.

Junhong shakes his head. He really can't -- his knees are already pressed into the seat in front of him and Himchan's got the other seat reclined all the way. He tries to scrunch up, but he's got long legs. He can't actually make himself any smaller. "Sorry, hyung," he mumbles.

"It's okay, Junhonggie," Youngjae says, tiredly, and puts his iPad away.

Junhong sighs. Being tall is cool, most of the time, but sometimes he just wishes he could shrink himself, just a little bit, to fit better into maknae-sized spaces.

***

The coordi nuna tuts.

They're trying on clothes ahead of the next round of promotions, and Junhong's pants are too short again. There's a few centimeters of pale ankle between the tops of his boots and the hems of his jeans.

"Can't you stop growing?" she mutters. "This is the third time this year we've had to re-measure you."

Junhong frowns. "Sorry, nuna." He drinks enough coffee now to stunt anyone's growth (thanks Himchan hyung) but he's still getting taller. He's not sure what else he can do.

"It's okay, Junhong," she says. "Now come here and let me re-measure you."

***

There's a squeal of feedback and Junhong's mouth snaps shut.

The engineer hyung shakes his head. Yongguk hyung stands up and opens the door to the recording booth.

"Hey," he says. "You okay?"

Junhong nods. He's okay, it's just that this is the sixth take he's ruined because his stupid voice keeps breaking. He feels young and stupid and he knows his face is red and it's not like there's anything he can do about it except keep trying.

"Do you need some water?" Yongguk asks. "Do you need …"

"Hyung, I'm fine," Junhong says. "Let me try again. I'll get it this time."

Yongguk looks doubtful. "If you want to call it a day and try again tomorrow we can. Your voice …"

"I'm fine," Junhong says. "Let me try once more, okay?"

Yongguk hyung nods. He's not the best at comforting, but he listens to what Junhong wants, and that's really nice. "Once more."

Junhong nods and steps back to the mic. Okay voice, he thinks. Just get through this one take. 

***

The choreographer hyung sighs. "No," he says. "Junhong is throwing off the symmetry because he's so much taller. We're going to need to re-do that move." He shakes his head. "Let's take a break while I think about it."

Daehyun and Youngjae make a beeline for the fridge. Himchan flops on the floor, tired and red faced. Yongguk is talking to the choreographer, and Jongup is still rehearsing the dismissed move. Junhong sighs and makes a break for the locker room. It's quiet and dark and kind of smelly. He turns on the tap and splashes some cold water on his face. In the mirror his eyes are puffy and his cheeks are splotchy red. He doesn't look that tall, just looking at his face. He doesn't think so anyway. There's a look tall people have and Junhong doesn't think he has it -- not yet anyway. He doesn't want to think about how much taller he'd have to be to get that tall person look.

"What are you doing?" Jongup is standing next to him, frowning. "I think Himchan hyung was totally making stuff up when he told us you could learn to read your own mind if you stared at your reflection long enough." He looks up at the ceiling. "What does that even mean? Reading your own mind?"

Junhong shakes his head. "I wasn't doing that, Jongup hyung." He sighs, because it sounds so stupid. "I just … I was thinking that I wish I weren't so tall. It looks weird."

Jongup narrows his eyes. "It just looks like you," he says.

Junhong nods. "I know, but I'm always throwing things off and getting in the way stuff. I wish I could just stop growing or something. I know that sounds dumb … "

"It's not dumb," Jongup says. "But I don't think you should worry. I'm the right height for Jongup. You're the right height for Junhong. The other stuff just has to work that out." 

"Oh," Junhong says. He's not sure if that makes sense, but it makes him feel a little bit better, the idea of being Junhong height.

Jongup nods. "Come on," he says. "I've got an idea I want to tell the choreographer hyung. I actually think it'll work if we just make room for you in the center."

Junhong smiles. "Okay," he says. "Thanks, Jonguppie hyung."


	31. When Himchan kissed Youngjae on the cheek, during the Taiwan concert, I think.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> http://mblogthumb4.phinf.naver.net/20130610_243/huiji91_1370803216076cTFS2_GIF/2566253351A1FA5D33C1E8.gif?type=w420

It starts out because Himchan unilaterally declares himself the king of fan service.

"You can't just do that," Youngjae says. "We need to have a vote."

Himchan rolls his eyes. "Youngjae, I made a fan cafe for our fans. Obviously I'm the winner."

Youngjae sniffs. "That's easy stuff. Why don't you follow Yongguk hyung's example and show some skin on stage."

Himchan glares. They both know there's no way he's going to do that -- for that matter, they both know that there's no way Youngjae would do that either (at least not yet).

"Fine," Himchan says. "Tonight. We'll have a competition. The other guys can decide on the winner."

Youngjae nods. He's picked up his fan service game a lot, but Himchan hyung has less shame and more experience. He's gotta think of something really good.

They're nearly done with the show and Himchan hasn't made his move yet. Youngjae's been making eye contact and throwing hearts and generally acting like a fool as much as he can, but he's not sure quantity can overwhelm the quality of whatever Himchan has planned -- it's bound to be something loud and noticeable. That's Himchan's style.

They close with Dancing in the Rain, which is fun and stupid and meant for fan service. Everyone gets in on it: Daehyun grabs someone camera and Yongguk blows kisses. Junhong's very existence is fan service; he doesn't have to do anything special.

He's singing and he's lost track of Himchan hyung when someone comes up behind him and slides a hand around his waist. Quickly, quietly, Himchan leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Youngjae's cheek. It's not a big flashy gesture or anything, but the crowd sees. The crowd likes it, if the cheers are anything to come by.

Youngjae twists his head away.

"I win," Himchan whispers, and then he dances off to the other side of the stage.

Youngjae wrinkles his nose, because damn it, Himchan did win. But then, he thinks, pressing his hand to his cheek, maybe this situation is a win all around.


	32. jongup feels like he's slowly losing his place in bap. (bbang taking over his place of abs, zelo constantly being in the spotlight for dancing, etc)

Zelo sits in the back in the interview, but only because he's tall.

Jongup can't see him, but he knows what face he's making: eyes narrowed, mouth open in disbelief. Junhong's had plenty of occasions to make that face over the last year, but this isn't one of them.

"I wouldn't really say that I'm the best at dancing," Juhong says. "Jongup hyung is --"

The pretty interviewer cuts him off. "But your dance solo in the last video was the highlight, and you're still so young. What inspired you to start learning in the first place?"

Junhong hems and haws a bit, but he'll answer the question. Jongup stops paying attention. He's heard this story plenty of times. He's not the most fussy in the group (with Daehyun and Himchan around he's not even close) but it's too warm in here and the heavy stage makeup he's wearing feels like a slick of oil sitting on his skin. He's hot and annoyed and all the questions have gone to Junhong and Yongguk hyung and he's ready to be done and go back to the dorm where at least he can sleep. He wishes he could just get up and walk out now. It'd be rude, but he's not the one they want to interview, so it's pretty pointless for him to sit here.

He's thinking so hard about how he can get out of the rest of the interview that he misses the cue when it's time for them to do their greeting. Everyone laughs at him and he grins because he knows that's what they expect -- space cadet Jongup. They do the greeting successfully and the interview is finally over and they can go home, but even that's not that great because Daehyun insists they stop and get Japanese food for dinner and Jongup doesn't really like Japanese food. He eats it, of course, but he'd rather have a burger.

It's late by the time it's finally Jongup's turn for the shower. The hyungs are in the bedroom, and Junhong is passed out on the couch, drooling on a pillow. The bathroom door opens. Youngjae comes out with his pajamas on and a towel around his shoulders. His bare face is red and his eyes are sleepy.

Jongup gets up and grabs his towel. Youngjae holds the door.

"Thanks," Jongup says, but Youngjae puts a hand on a his shoulder, startling him.

"Hey," he says. "Were you okay during the interview today? You had this look on your face like you wanted to burn the whole building down."

Jongup frowns. "I didn't want to …"

"I know," Youngjae says. "I know. I'm just saying you looked really pissed, Jongguppie."

Jongup shrugs. "I just didn't see what the point of me being there was."

Youngjae purses his lips. "What do you mean? The point of us being there was to talk about the new album and …"

"No," Jongup says. "I don't mean us. I mean me."

Youngjae stares at him. "Jongguppie, you're part of the team. Why wouldn't you be there?"

Jongup shrugs. "I know I am, but Junhong's got the questions about dance covered, and if they want to embarrass anyone into showing off their abs they can just use Yongguk hyung. I could have just taken a nap or something and waited for you guys."

Youngjae's eyes narrow, but then his expression goes soft. "You know, I know how you feel."

Jongup frowns. Youngjae hyung is good at a ton of stuff and he's really well spoken, so he always gets to answer the important business-like questions, because the company trusts him not to mess up. "You talk so much though."

Youngjae shrugs. "Yeah, but just like, stuff anyone can say. I mean, I didn't sign up to be B.A.P's press secretary."

Jongup chuckles. "Hyung, you're not …"

"I know," Youngjae says. "I just understand how you feel. I mean, nobody's going to ask me about singing with Daehyun around." He sighs. "Listen, I know this sounds dumb, but it's like Yongguk hyung says. We're all equals on this team. Some of us are better at some things, but we're all partners and we're all here for a reason."

Jongup nods. He knows that. "I just … Sometimes I feel like you guys aren't going to need me around any more. Junhong's a really good dancer and you and Daehyun hyung have been working out a lot … I'm not going to be the 'one with abs'."

Youngjae snorts. "Jonguppie, if that's what you're waiting for, you're gonna be around for a long time. Trust me."

Jongup laughs. "Hyung, that's not true. You're …"

"Yeah, yeah," Youngjae says. "We'll see. But listen, you know there's always going to be a place for you. No matter what. It's not about what we can do. It's the fact that we're a team, and we love each other, right?"

Jongup looks down. "Hyung, that was really sappy. Himchan hyung would be proud."

Youngjae's cheeks go redder. "Great," he says. "Go take your shower."

Jongup grins and nods. It was sappy, but … "Thanks, hyung."


	33. Aura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special prompt from [the Lightning Pinch Hit Round](http://thebrowniebunch.livejournal.com/14702.html#cutid1) at TheBrownieBunch fic exchange!! Go read the rest of the awesome drabbles posted there.

“Vocals are vocals,” the vice president says, “but to debut, you need something more than that.”

Youngjae nods, like he knows what they’re talking about, and maybe he should. He’s heard this line before – back at JYP, when his debut date kept getting pushed back and back and back until it seemed like the calendar would run out of pages before he got to stand on stage. And in theory, he does get it. He sees the difference between Yongguk hyung in the practice room – quiet and slightly overwhelmed by his authority – and Bang Yongguk on stage – commanding and intense and thrilling.

It was the second Yongguk that convinced Youngjae to sign to TS; he’s not sure the first would have managed the same. He’s not sure how Yongguk hyung does it, and he’s not sure he’s brave enough to ask. Yongguk’s nice to everyone, but he’s not close to anyone yet.

At the end of the day, hours after his evaluation, when the rest of the trainees are shoving their things in their bags to go back home, Youngjae goes into the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror. He looks young for his age, with round cheeks and floppy bangs. He’s short, too, although his mom says that if his brother is any indication he’s still got another few inches in him. He’s perfectly fine looking – he’s not self conscious or insecure or anything like that. He just doesn’t know what to do if that isn’t enough.

The bathroom door opens with a squeak, and Youngjae jumps.

“Ah, there you are.”

It’s Kim Himchan. He’s older – Yongguk’s age – and he’s got a lot of musical talent. Youngjae guesses it’s those things that make him a prized trainee, because his voice is good but nothing special and he can’t dance at all.

Still, Himchan has never acted worried that he might not make the cut.

“Hi hyung,” Youngjae says. “I was just going to …”

“What are you doing in here, Youngjae- ya? I was going to go get kimbap with Jonguppie and Minsoo if you want to come.” Himchan grins, happy and friendly and Youngjae should be happy that a hyung is being nice to him but it just makes his stomach kind of hurt. That more -- whatever it is – is something Himchan hyung has in spades.

Youngjae frowns. He feels stupid asking, but if he doesn’t figure this out and gets cut from the group, it’s not gonna matter anyway.

“Hyung, how do you … “ He waves his hands.

Himchan narrows his eyes. “How do I …?”

Youngjae hates not being able to explain things. “You know. You just … people always notice you.”

Himchan nods. “Ahhh,” he says. “My aura.”

“What?”

“My aura,” Himchan says, grinning his slightly rabbity grin. “Turning heads isn’t something just anyone can do, you know.”

“Um, I don’t think that’s what …”

Himchan leans back against the tiled wall. “What? Did they say something to you in the evaluation today?”

Youngjae’s cheeks are warm. “No, I just …”

“Hey,” Himchan says. “You don’t have to lie. I saw your face when you got back.”

“I wasn’t upset –“

“Furious, more like it,” Himchan says. “You looked like you were going to set things on fire with your eyes.”

Youngjae wrinkles his nose. He hadn’t realized his anger was so obvious. “It’s just … Hyung, my vocals are improving and I’m getting better at dancing and they keep asking me for something more.” He stares down at the toes of his grubby sneakers. “I’m not you though, and I’m not Yongguk hyung. I can’t help it if I’m boring and I don’t have an aura.”

Himchan would be entirely within his rights to laugh at that. It sounds ridiculous even to Youngjae. But Himchan doesn’t laugh. “Is that what they said?”

Youngjae shrugs. “They just keep telling me I need to do something more, but I don’t know what that’s supposed to be.” He bites his lips. “Do you think you could like, teach me to do the aura thingy?”

Himchan exhales deeply. “Youngjae, I hate to say this, but it’s not something you can learn just like that.”

Youngjae closes his eyes. Great. That’s what he figured. Not only does he not have it, whatever it is, but he can’t even learn it. 

“Hey,” Himchan says, his hand on Youngjae’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t get so down, though. You can sing, you can dance, you’re good looking.” He laughs, a little bit bitter. “I’d take any of those over having an aura any day.”

“Thanks, hyung, but I …”

“Listen,” Himchan says. “Let me give you a piece of advice. It’s more important to do a good job at being yourself than it is to worry about being someone else, okay?”

“Yeah,” Youngjae mutters, “If you’re not boring.”

Himchan shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Trust hyung.”

***

“Well?” Himchan says, grinning so widely that his face is mostly wrinkle and teeth. “Well?”

Youngjae’s chest is tight and he still can’t really believe it. “I’m in,” he says.

Himchan slaps him hard enough on the back to make him lose his breath. “Told you, dummy. I told you.”

Youngjae nods. “I know, but they said …”

Himchan snorts. “Listen,” he says. “They might be adults and they might be our bosses, but they’re not infallible. Youngjae doesn’t need to be anything other than Youngjae to be awesome.”

Youngjae rolls his eyes. He’s starting to see that Himchan’s grand declarations are half nonsense. “Thanks, hyung.”

Himchan shrugs. “It’s nothing,” he says. “Besides, I’ve got more than enough aura for this group, don’t you think?”


	34. prompt: daehyun is a coward (in love, in life and in haunted houses)

"What was that?"

Youngjae rolls his eyes -- Daehyun assumes he does, anyway, because that's his standard response in these kinds of situations. It's not like he can tell, because it's pitch black except for the flickering lights in the corners of the room and the flashlight Youngjae is holding. 

"It was just the wind," he says. "Or someone outside. Calm down."

Daehyun frowns. "I don't like this." He really doesn't like this. "I'm cold, and hungry, and my feet are wet. Can't we go back to the van?"

The flashlight's beam bobs. "Nope," Youngjae says. "We've gotta find the bells. You don't want Yongguk hyung and Himchan hyung to win, do you?"

Daehyun honestly doesn't care. He's sick of this variety show and sick of stumbling around in the dark and cold with stupid ghoulies and ghosties popping out all over the place. "I want hot chocolate," he mutters. "I want to go ..."

Something creaks loudly. A chill runs sharp and fast down Daehyun's spine, and he clings, fingers digging into Youngjae's sweater.

He can feel Youngjae's chest rise and fall as he breathes. He can feel Youngjae's hand come up and rest in the small of his back.

"Hey," Youngjae says, voice low and quiet. "It was just the wind again, Daehyun."

Daehyun closes his eyes. "Right," he says. "Right. Sorry. I just thought that you know, maybe it was a ghost. I know there aren't really any ghosts here but I thought maybe one slipped in when we weren't looking or ..."

"If you really want to go back," Youngjae says, "we can go back."

Right. Like Daehyun's going to admit to being a coward. He's still pressed against Youngjae's chest (solid and comfortable and he could stay here forever) and Youngjae's hand is still resting on his back. He likes it so much, and that's scarier than any ghost.

Even if Youngjae felt the same way -- and what a huge if that is -- the thought of taking even the first step down that path makes Daehyun shiver.

The flashlight bobs again.

"Look," Youngjae says. "Over there!"

One of the bells is sitting on the shelf; if they find four first they can summon the ghost princess and win, which is all nonsense in Daehyun's mind. He doesn't want any ghosts, fake or real, princess or not.

Youngjae's hand slides up his back, solid and real, and then he finds Daehyun's hand and links their fingers. "Come on," he says, "let's find the rest of these things and get out of here." 

Daehyun can see the bright flash of his grin in the dim light. "I won't let the ghosts get you."

"I'm not scared," Daehyun says. "Youngjae! I'm not scared, I'm just ... "

There's another eerie creak. Daehyun shivers.

Youngjae just laughs and holds Daehyun's hand tighter.


	35. A scene in which your bias gets this: [Picture of Watermelon Cake]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scene in which your bias gets this: http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YSK1QA2RUM8/T8beFiiD4pI/AAAAAAAACBA/qiCD25NYmv4/s1600/Watermelon+Cake+4+logo.jpg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT INTENDING TO MAKE LIGHT OF ANYONE WITH FOOD CONCERNS / SENSITIVITIES <3 EACH PERSON SHOULD EAT WHAT AND HOW THEY THINK IS BEST FOR THEMSELVES <3 THIS IS TOTAL NONSENSE AND SHOULD BE TAKEN AS SUCH

"What's that?"

Daehyun isn't the most observant guy in the world, but he's second to none when it comes to spotting food.

"A cake," Junhong says.

Well. Duh.

It's a watermelon cake: two layers, buttercream frosting if he's not mistaken, and chocolate chips for seeds.

"Where'd you get that?"

Junhong frowns. "From a fan ..." he says slowly.

Daehyun is a good hyung; let it never be said he's not. He's always looking out for his dongsaengs. "Junhonggie, I don't think you should be eating that. You have no idea what they put in it."

"Hyung, she was really nice." Junhong pouts. "She said she made it herself."

Daehyun shakes his head. "Nope. Too risky," he says. "Besides, don't you know that red food dye stunts your growth?"

Junhong, long legs stretched out across the aisle, frowns.

Errr ... wrong approach. "And it causes hyperactivity. And allergies." He shakes his head. "You better just let me throw that away for you."

Junhong's pout gets poutier; he pulls the box closer.

"What would Himchan say if he knew?"

Junhong's eyes widen.

A-ha. Daehyun's got him.

*****

Daehyun moans. His stomach hurts so much. He's lying on his side in bed, and he's already taken medicine, but it's not helping.

"Will you go get me a soda? Pleaseee?"

Youngjae's expression conveys his total disgust. "Did you really have to eat all of that?"

Daehyun just moans again. "It looked so good. And it's been so long since I've had any decent cake."

Youngjae sighs, but he rolls off his bed and gets his wallet.

"You're sad," he say. "You should have known you'd regret eating anything that color."

Daehyun shrugs. His stomach does hurt but regret? He wouldn't go quite that far .... "It was really good."

Youngjae just shakes his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be continued?????


	36. prompt: If just for a moment, Hana wants Youngjae to just look at her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: If just for a moment, Hana wants Youngjae to just look at her

"Himchan hyung, here's a drink for you ... And Junhong, here's yours."

Manager oppa gave Youngjae the bag of drinks and snacks to dole out. A good choice, Hana thinks. He's ... responsible. Serious. If truth be told she thought he was a little boring, even. At first.

She doesn't think that way now. Nothing changed really, just --

"Jieun sunbaenim, here's your drink," he says, smiling, all round cheeks and long eyelashes. He's shy, and that just makes him cuter.

It's not the only cute thing about him; lime-green sweatsuits aren't exactly the height of fashion, but the way they cling to his thighs and his ass ... well, she can't be blamed for looking.

"Here's one for you, Hana sunbaenim."

She looks up. He glances away. Cute, stupid kid.

"Thanks, Youngjae," she says. "And please. Just call me nuna. You're making me feel like I'm some scary sunbae or something. Am I going to have to start playing pranks on you?"

"Sorry Hana sun -- Sorry, nuna."

He won't meet her eyes, and his cheeks are red. She reaches up and grabs his hand.

"Seriously," she says. "I'm not kidding. We're friends, Youngjae. Call me nuna."

"I will," he says. "Thanks, nuna." But he's nervous still, turning quickly away to give Sunhwa her drink.

It's not like she's goo-goo eyed over him or anything; it just stings a little bit. She knows she's no Hyosung, but she'd like it if he'd just look at her once as something other than Hana sunbaenim.

Hana breathes out. Stupid Youngjae. Stupid smart, talented, handsome kid. He's young, still, she thinks, so young. A little more time, and he'll relax. A little more time she'll nurse this crush. He's smart. He'll catch on.


	37. prompt: banghim. I don't know what it's called, the space in between seconds. I hope you never have to think about anyone as much as I think of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: banghim. I don't know what it's called, the space in between seconds. I hope you never have to think about anyone as much as I think of you

**Wednesday. 10AM.**

The couch in his mother's house is as comfortable as Himchan remembers. Something boring morning show drones on in the background. His eyes are closed and the warm sunlight slipping through the blinds puts him to sleep.

"Himchannie, come here."

He opens one eye.

"I'm sleeping," he mumbles.

"Come here and try this!"

He rolls boneless off the couch. In the kitchen, his sister and his mother are making songpyeon. Everything smells good and fresh, like pine.

"Here," his mother says. She pops a tiny ugly end piece in his mouth. "Good?"

He nods. It is good.

"Good," she says. "I'll give you some to bring back to the dorm, too."

"Thanks, Ma."

She pats his cheek, and sends him back to rest. They all know how precious this vacation is.

He lies back down, but he's awake now. He pulls out his phone, but he's got no new messages. It's the holidays, after all.

_My mom is trying to make me eat everything. I'm fending her off by telling her I'd rather bring it back to the dorm to share. Be prepared._

He sends the text, but no response. Of course not. It's Chuseok. He almost thought ... but no. Of course not.

**Thursday. 7PM.**

A hot day. A long day spent with family -- loud children and too much food and the tedium of the countryside. Ssireum on the old television set. His baby cousins fighting. His grandmother telling him how handsome he's gotten-- well, nothing wrong with that.

It's evening now, and cool with the cool freshness of an autumn night. The moon is big and golden. His parents are up ahead. His sister is walking with some of their cousins closer to her age, girls who used to tease him and put his hair up in pig tails when he was a child.

It was a long time ago, but Himchan's good at holding grudges.

There are no cousins his age. He's walking alone. He's sick of grandparents and aunts pinching his cheeks anyway.

_I think you'd like it here._

Then, a moment later, he elaborates.

_There's lots of nature things, and it's really boring, so it reminds me of you._

**Friday. 9AM.**

Drowsing, in his childhood bed. Idol Athletics is on television. He's watching, out of morbid curiosity.

Funny, he doesn't remember the speed walking feeling as utterly goofy as it looks.

_Isn't it your job as leader to tell us when we look like idiots?_

Then

_I'm not doing 아육대 next year. I'll be the cheerleader._

Then

_I didn't look that stupid in real life. There must have been something wrong with the camera._

**Saturday. 10AM.**

Yongguk is on the couch. "Himchan," he says, looking up, inexplicable surprise on his face.

Himchan drops the shopping bag in his lap. "These are from my mother. Happy Chuseok, she says."

"Happy Chuseok," Yongguk says, rummaging through the bag. "How was it?"

Himchan shrugs. "Oh, you know. Everyone wanted to talk to me. Get the inside scoop on life as an idol." He waves a hand. "I was so busy it barely seemed like a vacation."

Yongguk grins. "I missed you too, Himchannie."


	38. Zelo's never been kissed before and he wants one of his hyungs to do it first so he's not terrible at it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelo's never been kissed before and he wants one of his hyungs to do it first so he's not terrible at it.

"It's an act," Daehyun says. "I mean, SHINee sunbaenim are famous. He's gotta been asked out on tons of dates."

Youngjae pokes him in the side. "Think about how busy we are. Do you really think he's had a lot of time for dating?"

"Children," Himchan says. "Don't worry. If any of us are going to end up on We Got Married, it's going to be me."

Youngjae rolls his eyes and Daehyun snorts. "Hyung, please. What dating have you been doing? Maybe they should cast Yongguk hyung and Jieun nuna, although I guess they wouldn't pair up two people from the same company."

Yongguk's face grows dark. "I don't think I would make a very good fake boyfriend."

Himchan grins, Daehyun's slight already forgotten. "But you make such a good real boyfriend, Yonggukkie. At least that's what I hear through the grapevine."

Yongguk's face grows darker.

"Hyung, quit teasing," Youngjae says, in his role as secondary peacekeeper. "None of us are going to get cast on We Got Married anyway. We don't have enough time."

That is the honest truth. Dismayed, they watch in silence for a moment as Taemin and Naeun cook some dinner happily, and then someone changes the channel.

Junhong is worried. The hyungs have all had girlfriends and stuff, but he was still a dopey, chubby middle school kid when he got cast by TS. He never had a chance.

"Jongup," he asks, when they're alone in the dance studio after practice the next day. "If you get cast on that We Got Married show, you probably don't have to kiss, right? Like holding hands would be fine?"

"I don't know," Jongup says. "The girl they cast you with might want you to kiss her on the cheek. I think that's romantic."

Junhong sighs. "I don't think I know how to be romantic. They really better cast Himchan hyung."

Jongup shrugs. "You're the most popular," he says, like it's plain fact. "They might cast you."

Junhong frowns. "I never ... I've never kissed anyone before," he admits. "I'm going to be so bad at it."

Jongup watches for a moment. Then he says, "I'll kiss you."

Junhong stares wide eyed. "Really?"

Jongup nods. "Sure."

There's a really long pause while they just stare at each other. Nothing new, nothing surprising today. Just regular old Jongup, with the faded pink growing out of his hair. Junhong is beginning to think that maybe Jongup was just joking when he offered when Jongup stands up on his tip toes and leans forward and presses a quick, closed mouthed kiss to Junhong's lips. It's awkward, but it's a real kiss.

That's gotta be worth something.

"OH," Junhong says, bringing his fingers to his mouth.

Jongup sighs. "I'm not really good either," he says. "I mean, I just kissed this one girl at a cafe one time. On a dare."

"Oh," Junhong says, feeling a little bit better.

"I think it might be like dancing," Jongup says, rocking on the balls of his feet. "You just have to keep practicing until you get it."

"Ah," Junhong says. That he understands. He leans forward to kiss Jongup again


	39. prompt: b.a.p design shoes no one ever wants to wear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: b.a.p design shoes no one ever wants to wear

Chocholate nuna (yes, the name has stuck) fixes them with a stern eye. "Kids," she says, "I know you want to be more involved in creating your own image, but what exactly is this?"

Himchan frowns. "Nuna, don't be cruel. You don't like our creations?" He holds up his own pair of hi-tops: black and white leopard print, with studs along the tongue.

"They're very ... you," she says, diplomatic.

Youngjae holds up his own pair -- a jarring combination of sky blue and red. "We're thinking that there's a real co-branding opportunity here, Nuna. We could strike a partnership with a footwear company and release biannual collections of specially designed and branded ..."

He's taking marketing classes this unit at school, and it shows.

"It was really hard designing them," Junhong says. "Nuna, sometimes I used to think you just weren't very good at being a stylist -- I mean, those pink tuxedos were awful! -- but I realize now how hard it is. I'm not sure that excuses those green denim outfits we had for Hajima but ..."

Okay, she's heard enough. She slams Himchan's shoe down on the table. "Kids, stop it. I've heard enough."

Himchan frowns and Youngjae glares and Junhong pouts. Thank god, she's immune after all this time.

"There's not going to be any biannual limited edition sneakers," she says, calmly, "and even if they were, they sure wouldn't look like these."

Himchan and Youngjae just keep glaring, but Junhong asks, pitifully, "Why, Nuna?"

"Because your shoes are UGLY," she says. "I'm really sorry kids, but they are."

"Hmmph," Himchan says. "This from the woman who dressed me in a sweatpant kilt."

Youngjae rolls his eyes. "Fine, nuna. Fine. We get it."

Junhong frowns. "Mine aren't ugly, though."

She sighs. "Kids," she says, but they've already started to walk away.

Whatever. They'll get over their hurt feelings. The shoes really were that ugly.


	40. For bibmbapfic: Trick-or treat! B.A.P meets a ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For bibmbapfic on tumblr: Trick-or treat! B.A.P meets a ghost

"There’s no such thing as ghosts. Why did you wake me up, you pabo?" It’s just a little after three in the morning and Himchan is not about being woken up by Jung Daehyun and his stupid dreams.

"Hyung, I’m not kidding you," Daehyun says. His voice is shakey. "There’s a ghost in the kitchen." He swallows. "And I woke you up because you’re the only one who’d be more scared than men."

Himchan’s tired but … “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Daehyun frowns. “Youngjae would have made fun of me so bad.”

*

"So where was this …"

"Quiet!" Daehyun whispers, inordinately loud. "It’s right in there."

Himchan rolls his eyes and is about to remind Daehyun, again, that there’s no such thing as ghosts, when he freezes. Right in the middle of the kitchen, where he stands every morning to cook for the kids, there’s a tall pale figure looming.

"Shit."

"I told you," Daehyun says. "Now go scare him away."

"You go scare him away." Himchan can feel the hair on his arms start to rise.

"No, you scare him away. That’s why I woke you up, hyung."

"Yeah, well, you’re right. I am even more scared than you. You go scare him away."

The ghosts has heard their bickering. He moans, and totters towards them all long skeletal arms and eerie shreds of cloth.

Daehyun shrieks. Himchan’s sense of self preservation is stronger. He grabs Daehyun’s hand and pulls them both into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind. Panting, he sinks to the floor.

"I told you," Daehyun says, annoyed. "I told you there was a ghost!"

Himchan shakes his head. “Fine,” he says. “You’re right. I’m telling sajangnim the dorm is haunted. I want out of here.”

"We need to get out of the bathroom first. Call Yongguk hyung and tell him to get rid of the ghost."

"I don’t have my phone."

Daehyun frowns. “I don’t either.”

Shit.

*

Junhong wakes up in a tangle of sheets. His neck hurts, and he’s sleeping on something cold — the kitchen floor?

Ugh. He sleepwalked again, and he ran right into the laundry.

The clock on the stove says it’s four in the morning, so at least he can get a few more hours of sleep. He pushes all the blankets off. The dorm is dark and quiet. He hears something — a whisper, and then a rattle — coming from the bathroom and pauses.

But he hears nothing more. It must just be his imagination. The dorm can be kind of spooky, this late at night.


	41. for daeanthus: trick-or-treat! :) b.a.p attempt to carve pumpkins.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for daeanthus on tumblr: trick-or-treat! :) b.a.p attempt to carve pumpkins.

Junhong’s never carved a pumpkin before. He gets the general idea, but he doesn’t know what he can do to make it y’know, special.

Yongguk is deep in concentration.

"Hyung, what are you doing?"

He looks up, blinks, and then grins sheepishly. “Ah,” he says. “I’m making a Tigger.”

Junhong grins too. Of course. “Cool.” Yongguk hyung is so impressive and talented and smart. Junhong likes that he likes something as dorky as Tigger as much as he does.

Youngjae and Daehyun are working on theirs together. It doesn’t appear to be going well.

"I told you not to do anything fancy!" Youngjae scowls. "You just had to try to make it special, didn’t you?"

There’s a big crack in their pumpkin where Daehyun’s tried to make sparkly anime eyes. The mouth, Youngjae’s work, is a ragged grin.

Daehyun narrows his eyes. “I’m sorry if your artistic skills aren’t up to my level.”

"Your artistic skills aren’t up to your level!" Youngjae scowls.

Junhong wisely decides to leave them to their pumpkin.

Jongup’s pumpkin has three triangles in it, all pointing different ways. The mouth — if that’s what it is — is a squiggly line. It’s different, like Jongup, but Junhong likes it.

"Your face is good, hyung," Junhong says.

Jongup frowns. “Does it look like a face? It’s supposed to be a bat doing a cartwheel.”

… “Oh.”

Himchan hasn’t started his pumpkin yet, but he’s sitting back with his arms folded like he’s done.

"Hyung, aren’t you going to carve yours?"

Himchan smirks. “Junhong-ah, don’t you know? There’s no pumpkin that can capture my beauty.”

"Ugh, hyung."

 

Himchan shrugs. “Hyung can help you with yours, if you want.”

Junhong smiles. “Okay,” he says. “I’ve decided. I’m gonna do a Matoki. For all of us.”


	42. Tumblr Post Prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on http://jvnhong.tumblr.com/post/35316181710/gguernica-b-a-p-in-movies-lords-of-dogtown  
> (omg don't be sorry and I'm sorry this took me so long and is so short and random and kind of sad ;__; Dae+jae with a hint of Banghim!

Youngjae closes his eyes and listens to the hard musical rhythm of Daehyun's wheels echoing in the empty concrete bowl in Mr. and Mrs.'s So-and-So's back yard. Sloooowww as he drops in and then faster as he gathers speed, then the pause when Youngjae know he's got air. Over and over and over, until with the crickets and the whine of traffic on the distant freeway it makes a song that Youngjae will never in his life forget.

Then the rhythm is interrupted. Skin thuds against concrete. The board rolls noisily away.

Youngjae sits up.

Daehyun rubs his elbow, which is pink and spotted with richer red where the blood is starting to seep out. "Don't worry," he says, "I'm not dead."

"You're going to break your neck on that silly contraption one of these days," Youngjae says. It's a joke between then, a slogan for their reckless, thrilling hobby, a subtle eyeroll at the similar but much more sincere criticism they've all gotten from teachers and parents and well-meaning but nosy strangers.

Daehyun grins. "Nah," he says. "I'm indestructible."

What are you boys doing fooling around on those things? You're going to break your necks. Nothing good can come of it.

Except.

"Aren't you going to ride?" Daehyun scrambles up the side of the pool and sits down beside Youngjae. "What did you bring your board for if you're just gonna sit here and watch me?"

Youngjae shrugs. "I thought there should be a witness if you really did break your neck."

Daehyun snorts. "Please," he says. "This is nothing. I'm careful. I'm nearly a profes ... "

The sky isn't black out here. There are too many street lights. It's dark orange overhead and purple at the edges.

"When are you going to tell Yongguk, then?" Youngjae asks.

Daehyun doesn't say anything. He cradles his scraped elbow in his other hand. "You didn't bring any bandages, did you?"

Youngjae shakes his head.

"Damn."

"You should tell him," Youngjae says. "He deserves to know."

Daehyun shrugs. "I'm not sure I'm going to take Z-Flex's offer."

Youngjae sits up. "Well, you'd really be an idiot if you didn't. I thought skating pro was your dream."

"It is," Daehyun says, quickly. "But ..."

"You feel guilty." It's not like Youngjae is particularly insightful or anything. It's just that Daehyun is his best friend, and they've had this conversation before.

"Yongguk wants to keep the team together," Daehyun says, kind of miserable. "But he doesn't have the money, dude."

"I know," Youngjae says. "He'll be fine, anyway. He's got Himchan, and the shop, and he can keep making boards."

Daehyun nods. His elbow is still bleeding freely. "What are you going to do? Are you going to leave?"

"Idiot," Youngjae says, purposefully avoiding the question. "You need to put a band-aid on that."

"I know."

"My house is closest," Youngjae says. "C'mon."


	43. Prompt:  BAP first kisses!!

(9)

"What are we doing, nuna?" Jongup blinks.

 

"Playing a game," Sookyung says, in her bossy voice. She is his next door neighbor, and she is a year older than he is.

"What kind of game?" Jongup knows how to play tag, and basketball, and soccer, but he's never played this game.

"It's called 'making out'. My unni plays it with her friend, too. It's really fun."

She sounds confident, and Jongup always likes fun games. But -- "I don't know how to play," he admits.

"It's okay," she says. "I can show you how."

Her hands are warm, and her breath smells like candy.

"Okay," Jongup says.

(13)

Yongguk is old for his age. He is tall, he already has to shave, and he hangs around with older guys. His grandfather told him that he has an old soul.

The pretty girl who has been flirting with him all night probably has no idea how old he is.

That's fine.

It's not a lie, he thinks. It's an omission. That's not the same thing.

"So you were saying you rap?" Her eyes are bright with interest.

He rattles the ice in his cup of water.

"I'm learning," he says.

"Are you any good?" she asks, brushing her hair off her forehead.

"I have a talented mouth," he says. And then -- oh fuck, he didn't mean it that way, but she's laughing.

"I'll have to decide that for myself," she says.

Her long hair is brushing his shoulder, and then it envelopes him and all he can think is, 'I can't believe that worked.'

(14)

"Someone's going to hear us," Youngjae says.

"No they're not," Chunae says. "Not if you shut up."

Her cheeks are red and she is very, very pretty, and he still can't believe she agreed to be his girlfriend. His hands are on her waist and her hands is resting on his shoulder. Her fingers are just under the collar of his shirt.

"I will," he says, "But ..."

"Shut up," she says, "Or I'll make you."

She does. Her lip gloss is slick and tastes like cake.

Nobody hears them -- or, at least, they don't hear anyone.

(15)

The date is not going well.

Christine sits with her hands folded in her lap. She pays close attention to the movie, because her Korean is not good. Daehyun eats all the popcorn.

They don't say a word.

When the movie is over they stand on the sidewalk outside the theater and their breath steams. Daehyun shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Thanks for coming with me," he says. "I had a really great time."

He didn't, but his brother told him to say that.

"You're welcome," Christine says, and she smiles at him.

Daehyun's heart does a kind of 'wub-wub-wub' thing and he can't help himself -- he leans forward and kisses her on the cheek.

There's an awful long moment when she stares at him, and he thinks his heart might just 'wub-wub-wub' right out of his chest, but then she rolls her eyes and takes his hand and holds it all the way home.

(17)

Himchan still is not used to the way that girls will smile at him if he smiles at them first. This is a new thing, and he doesn't understand it yet.

He smiles -- not his goofy smile that's all teeth and no eyes, but the one he practices in front of the mirror -- and Sunhee smiles back at him.

Bingo. Works like a charm.

"Himchan," she says, putting her hand on his arm. "Show me that again."

"Of course," he says, and he wraps his arms around her to guide her hands to the correct positioning on the janggu. "Just ... Like this."

He guides her hands through the motion, and then watches as she does it on her own.

"Perfect," he says. "You're going to do fine."

"You're so great," she says, and then she darts forward -- as quick and precise as her hands had been on the drum a moment before -- and plants a soft kiss off center on his lips.

"Not really," he says, "Play it one more time."

He hopes by the time she's done his cheeks will be a little less vivid a shade of red.

(Zelo)

"And when would I have had time to kiss a girl?" He sounds glum.

"It doesn't really take long," Youngjae says.

"There are tons of fans outside," Daehyun adds. "I think we could find a willing volunteer."

"I didn't even know what I was doing," Jongup admits, as if that would makes Junhong feel any better.

"You know it doesn't matter," Yongguk says in his sage way. "It'll happen when it's the right time."

"Sure, hyung," Junhong says, sarcastically. "Maybe when I'm eighty five."

"I have an idea," Himchan says, and then his hands are on Junhong's forearms and his stubbly chin is rubbing against Junhong's neck and then his wet rubbery lips are on Junhong's jaw.

And then they're all on him, kissing and ticking and he squirm and kicks and tries to get away, laughing. This doesn't count. This isn't a first kiss. This is the hyungs messing with him, like they always do. He's still eighteen and he's never kissed anyone for real and it's kind of pathetic, but Youngjae's fingers are in his hair and Himchan's mouth is pressed against his cheek and Jongup is holding his hand and Daehyun is rubbing his shoulders and Yongguk is watching them all and Junhong thinks maybe it's okay. Lots of people have first kisses. Nobody else has this.


	44. Tiny Daehyun and Youngjae in the Shower Snippit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny unfinished snippet of Youngjae and Daehyun in the shower. I think this was supposed to end with them jerking each other off.

The shower curtain rustles. 

“I’m still _in here_ ,” Daehyun hisses, turning quickly toward the wall. 

“Yeah,” Youngjae says, “and I told you your turn was up five minutes ago. You can stay, but I’m taking a shower.” 

He steps in. The light is low. The spray of the shower makes everything misty and vague. It’s nothing Daehyun hasn’t seen before. 

“Hand me the shampoo,” Youngjae says. 

Daehyun passes over the bottle -- some super expensive, super moisturizing stuff the stylists got them to try to save their hair. Youngjae squirts some into his hand, and okay, Daehyun’s seen it all before, but … 

Glimpses in passing -- in the bedroom as they all rush to leave on time, in the dull haze of exhaustion after dance practice -- are definitely not the same thing as standing under the hot spray of the shower with Youngjae and his long legs and his smooth wet skin. 

Daehyun grabs the shampoo bottle back. He’ll just wash and get right out. That’s what he should have done in the first place.

“You didn’t even wash your hair yet?” 

Youngjae scrubs at his scalp, frowning, annoyed and superior as he always fucking is. Daehyun can’t stand it, honestly, but he’d be a lot more annoyed if he weren’t so distracted by Youngjae’s biceps, by his solid chest, by the soft skin stretched over his ribs. Stupid Youngjae.


	45. Ulzzang Himchan / Youtube BYG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer unfinished piece, the beginning to a kind of high school / auditioning for B.A.P retelling. I am really really fond of this but I just don't see it ever getting done now.

The guy is good -- and kind of cute. 

That’s a pretty rare combination in amateur YouTube rappers. 

Himchan bites his lip and hits play again. The guy -- MLK18718 -- has a deep raspy voice and a good sense of rhythm. He raps some melancholy words -- cigarette smoke at dusk, alcohol at dawn -- that sound pretty good. 

Himchan’s never paid the most attention to lyrics. When it comes to music, the words are what he hears last, and cares about least. The beat’s more immediate, and the song has a good beat. 

He studies the guy’s face. His features aren’t too great individually. His nose is a bit big, and his eyes are kind of small. Put together, though, Himchan can’t deny the whole is pretty handsome. It’d work even better if he did something about those eyebrows, and got rid of the school boy helmet hair. 

I really like the song, but you’d look a lot better if you did something with that hair of yours. 

It’s stupid, thinking this MLK18718 will take his advice, but he figures that he’s doing a public service by trying. 

He glances up at the clock over his desk. Quarter to seven. It’ll be dinner time soon, and even though he should beg off, pretending he has homework, he’s pretty hungry. Before he goes downstairs and stuffs his face, he’s got something to do. 

He goes into the bathroom that he shares with his sister and takes off his glasses. His eyesight is pretty bad. The frames are plain and utilitarian and the lenses are thick. Without them, he can’t see further than a few meters, but he doesn’t really care. He carefully unbuttons his school shirt and without looking pulls on a tee shirt with a sparkly decal of characters from some manhwa on the front. He doesn’t know the series but he thought it looked cute. He combs his hair forward, out of the stupid split part style his mom insists he wear. From the drawer where his sister keeps her makeup he gets her bb cream and her eyeliner. The makeup makes his skin look smooth and nice, and the eyeliner makes his eyes look even bigger than they are. 

Himchan has nice features. That’s something his mother always said, even when ... Well, she’s always said it. 

He looks up. The reflection in the mirror grins -- not too cocky, not too playful. A grin he spent a very long time perfecting. 

He gets his phone and contorts his arm in strange angles to get the picture. If he holds the phone above eye level and looks up, it makes his cheekbones look stark and his jawline look sharp. He takes a few before he’s satisfied. The winning shot has him smiling, and shooting a V sign. He looks thin, and handsome. It’s good. 

He uploads it to his Cyworld account with a message:

Hope u all had a gr8 day~ I’m SO busy~ Places 2 go and ppl 2 see (★^O^★)

Then he takes off the tee shirt with the sparkly decal on the front and combs his hair back into a center part. He scrubs the makeup off his face so hard his skin turns red, and puts his glasses back on. 

He looks in the mirror, and yup, he’s just regular old Kim Himchan again. Boring and round-faced and with nowhere at all to go and no-one at all to see. 

He checks his post, it’s been favorited five times and reblogged twice. He smiles. He may be boring to the point of inducing sleep and plain as pie, but he’s got three hundred twitter followers and none of them have any idea. 

*****

“If you’re a rapper, aren’t you supposed to be able to talk fast?” 

The supervisor is a short woman in her early thirties with a large nose and a habit of chewing gum loudly that distresses Yongguk. 

“Um,” he says. 

“Because you only made twenty three calls today. The next lowest call total was thirty two. Just so you have a sense of how badly you’re doing.” She chews aggressively. 

“Um,” Yongguk says. “I apologize. I will try harder.” 

“You better,” she says. “And don’t be late tomorrow.” 

Yongguk nods. Once she turns her attention to some other slightly less hapless call center associate, he powers down his machine, and lets out a breath he’s been holding all day. 

He feels like he’s been hit in the gut, or like he’s been out for a run after drinking all night. Working in a call center was supposed to be an easy way to make some money without putting in too much time or energy. Instead Yongguk leaves every day feeling totally exhausted. 

He gets out his phone -- no messages. That’s not too surprising. Everyone’s so busy these days, even if nobody’s really doing anything. 

Well. That is neither true nor fair to say. Everyone’s doing something, even if none of it means much. 

On the metro, on his way home, he thinks about what his boss said. It’s not that he’s especially slow at speaking. He’s a cautious guy, but he can spit rhymes with speed when he needs to. He’s a bad telemarketer because people like to talk to him, and he likes to listen. 

Today he talked to a grandmother in Jeollanam-do. She had no interest in a subscription to Chosun Ilbo but his voice had reminded her of her son’s voice. Her son, she said, had left their village and his father’s fishing boat to go to Gwangju and get an education. Now, he works in an office pushing papers, barely making enough to pay the rent on a room. He sends them back money once a month, money they don’t really need. 

“I wish he’d stayed here,” she said. “He was trying so hard to do what he thought was right, but now when I talk to him, all I hear is emptiness in his voice. You sound like he used to. Don’t get pushed into something that takes all the life out of your voice, young man.” 

“I won’t, grandmother,” Yongguk said. “I’m going to follow my dream.” 

He is, no matter what. 

As soon as he figures out what his dream is. 

By the time he gets home his parents are asleep. Now that his brother has moved out to live near his college, the house is quiet and his parents have settled into a sedate routine. They eat dinner early, watch something on television, and go to bed. There’s food wrapped up in the fridge for him to eat at his pleasure, whenever he gets home. 

Yongguk appreciates the freedom they give him, but sometimes he feels like he’s floating further and further away, with nothing to tether him to the earth. 

He eats half a bowl of rice with some pickled pork and then puts the dinner things away. Quietly, he goes upstairs. He shuts the door to his room and boots on his computer. None of the blogs he likes have updated, and he’s got no emails from any of the guys. (They’re busy, he reminds himself. They’re all busy and working hard, just like he is.) There’s a new comment on the video he uploaded on YouTube -- that’s surprising. YouTube isn’t as popular in Korea as Cyworld or Weibo, which is maybe why Yongguk picked it. He’s only gotten a few dozen views; he’d have more if he’d created the account as Jepp Blackman. A few people know that name. But this account is anonymous, and he intends it to stay that way. 

I really like the song, but you’d look a lot better if you did something with that hair of yours. 

Yongguk snorts, and self consciously flattens his bangs down. 

His hair? Really? 

The guy who posted the comment -- strongmanchan -- has a few videos of himself uploaded, on the proper way to take a selca, on how to do eyeliner for guys, showing off a new pair of fancy sneakers. Short, goofy, meaningless stuff. The face in the videos is elegantly handsome rather than pretty. It is the face of someone who looks good and knows he does. 

Yongguk’s never really understood people like that very well. 

Still. He likes the song. 

Thanks. What do you like about the song? What do you dislike about my hair?

*****

Himchan finishes lacing up his sneakers and stuffs his kit in his bag. 

“Good job today,” Jinhyung says. 

“Thank you, sunbae,” Himchan says, grinning. “I knew we’d beat them once you and Woohyun sunbae made that run past their defenders and scored. They were ...” 

Jinhyung has already turned away to congratulate someone else. 

Himchan nods to himself. Right. 

It’s not some kind of tragic scenario where the sunbaes on the team stuff his clothes in the toilet or something. They all like him, and he likes them, and they know exactly his utility as a decently fast defender with good ball skills but not so good endurance. He doesn’t start, but he’s usually subbed in pretty quickly and plays a decent amount each half. 

It’s just ... when they were all becoming friends in middle school and freshman year Himchan was still a fat dork in thick glasses who would rather do almost anything than set foot on a soccer field. 

There’s going to be an impromptu victory party somewhere -- there always is. Himchan doesn’t feel like going. He picks up his bag and heads out into the evening. His nuna said she might come see the game, but he figures she got stuck at her job. He doesn’t blame her for not coming, but there’s nobody for him to say goodbye to. There’s nobody to notice his going. 

It’s spring, and the cherry trees across the street from the field are all blooming. Himchan glances around. The sidewalk isn’t too crowded, as far as these things go. His hair is a mess and his face is probably still red, but a pair of obnoxiously big sunglasses will take care of most of that. 

He snaps a quick selca with the flowering trees as a backdrop. They make his face look even redder, but it’s nothing a little color correction won’t fix. He’s gotten pretty good at that stuff, these last six months or so. 

He uploads it.

Chan after his soccer match~ As expected our team won~!!! ＼( ｀.∀´)／

It’s not the greatest picture, but he knows if he doesn’t post he’s going to lose followers. It’s stupid that he even cares about things like that, but he does. He doesn’t know why, but he does. 

*****

“Dude, it’s good to see you,” Sungwon says, pulling Yongguk in for a quick hug. 

“It’s good you see you, hyung.” 

 

“We were beginning to think you’d vanished,” Kyungwook says. “Good thing we ran into Jungminnie.” 

“I’ve just been doing the same things,” Yongguk says. The idea that Unbreakable -- a real, debuted, famous duo -- would be looking for him is silly. “Working, going to school.” 

“Making music still, I hope?” Sungwon’s gaze is sharp over the glass of beer he brings to his mouth. 

“Ah,” Yongguk says. “Here and there.” He takes a sip of his own beer. 

The bar is noisy with kids having fun and salarymen drowning their sorrows. The stench of cigarette smoke and fried food makes Yongguk’s stomach turn. 

“So,” Kyungwook says. “Our company is going to debut an idol group.” 

“Ah,” Yongguk nods. He doesn’t pay very much attention to idol music. 

“A girl group,” Sungwon clarifies. “They’re great kids. Really talented.” 

Yongguk nods, and takes a sip of beer. He guesses he likes girl groups as much as any other guy his age, but he doesn’t understand why the hyungs would want to get together to tell him this. 

“They’re going to debut sometime in the fall,” Sungwon says. 

The waitress comes with bowls of peanuts and cheese puffs. Kyungwook grabs a big handful. 

“If everything goes well,” he says around a mouth full of food, “a boy group is next.” 

Yongguk nods. He figures that idol groups are probably the best way for a company to ensure they’ve got a steady cash flow. His toes are barely wet from the waves of ocean of the music industry, but he knows that sometimes having a small but devoted fan base is better than having one big hit song. 

Sungwon and Kyungwook look at him. 

Nervous, he sips his beer again. 

“So?” Kyungwook narrows his eyes. “What do you think?” 

“Huh?” 

Sungwon shakes his head and laughs. “You never were the quickest on the uptake, Yonggukkie.” 

Kyungwook puts both his hands flat on the table, and leans forward. “It’s nothing serious now. It would be years in the future anyway. But our CEO told us he wants to make an idol group, and asked us if we knew anyone young, handsome, and talented who would be willing to work hard. We told him about you, and shows him your videos. He wants to meet you, Yongguk.” 

Yongguk blinks. The CEO of the Untouchable hyungs’ company wants to meet him? Bang Yongguk? To put him in an idol group? 

“Are you teasing me?” 

The hyungs look at each other and laugh.

“I told you he wouldn’t want to do it,” Sungwon says. “I mean, the company is good, Yongguk. They’re not going to turn you into a performing monkey. Still, idol music ....” 

He doesn’t need to say any more. 

And yet. 

Yongguk thinks about the hours at the call center. Hours and hours spent earning money to pay for college so he can get a degree and spend more hours earning money. He’s set foot on a long road paved with thousand won bills. It scares him. 

An idol group is an idol group, but maybe this is a way out. 

“Can I think about it?” 

Kyungwook looks relieved. “Of course, man. Give me your phone. I’m going to put in our numbers. You think about it and you get back to us whenever you want to know more.” 

Yongguk nods. The idea of being in an idol group is laughable. He’s never going to call them -- not about this, anyway. 

And yet. 

*****

“I’m not hungry, Mom. I ate when I was out with my friends.” 

Himchan shuts his bedroom door -- not quite a slam -- and dumps his school bag on his bed. 

He hadn’t been out with friends, and he hadn’t eaten. She doesn’t need to know that. He’d gone to the big mall downtown where they’d had a casting call for an entertainment agency -- not a big one, but still. One of Himchan’s friends on Cyworld had posted about it. Himchan doesn’t think about the future a lot, but if he was internet-famous enough to have thousands and thousands of followers he’d probably try to parlay that into real fame, too. 

It’s not like being a professional traditional percussion player is exactly some great prospect. 

The representatives from the entertainment company had been in their mid-twenties, and a bored variety of cool. They sat under a screen-printed banner and handed giggling middle school girls and handsome senior year boys applicant forms. If you were pretty enough or handsome enough they took you into a little booth and someone took your picture.

Himchan had stood a way off, behind a pillar, next to a bench where some ajhumma sat with her shopping. The queue grew and shrank, and then mostly shrank as kids went off to after school academies or home for dinner. Finally, the people from the company folded up their sign.

Himchan walked over to the deserted table. The mall was nearly empty, closing soon. Discarded application forms littered the floor. He bent down and picked one up. There really was no point ... and yet, he folded it and stuffed it in his back pocket. 

Stupid. He takes the form out now and flattens it, and lays it on his desk. He should have stayed late at school for extra practice, or done homework, or come home and helped his mother. Just stupid. 

He checks his Cyworld account. He’s got messages from some of his friends -- he’s got more these days. He scrolls through some of the minihompy updates quickly. Jaehyo updated today, he notices. Nothing special -- something about hanging out with a friend and their new puppy. There’s a picture of him -- hair artfully arranged, dog pressed to his face. 

Jaehyo is really popular. He’s always voted really high on ulzzang websites, and he’s got tons of followers. He’s really handsome, and really funny, and ... 

Himchan is a smart guy, appearances to the contrary. He knows crushes are stupid, pointless things -- especially crushes on internet celebrities he’s never going to meet. Even so, he can’t help himself. 

He closes Cyworld. He kicks off his shoes, undoes his school shirt, and throws it on the back of a chair. He slips off his pants. 

Himchan really likes being naked, actually, as long as there’s nobody around to see his nakedness. 

Fingers quick over the keyboard, he checks his email, his Me2Day, his YouTube account. 

Ah -- he’s got a message from MLK. He barely remembers why he commented on that video that day. He still doesn’t know why MLK bothered to reply. He definitely doesn’t understand why they’re still exchanging messages a week later. 

Still, every time he seems he’s got a new message from MLK he replies right away. 

So you study traditional instruments, you like rap music, and you are an expert at taking selcas. You’re an interesting person. Do you want to pursue music in the future? Do you think it’s important to preserve our traditions and heritage? Do your parents support you? 

Himchan shakes his head. This MLK -- whoever he is -- asks a lot of questions. 

i don’t know what i want 2 do. i like playing the janggu but i don’t know if I want 2 spend the rest of my life wearing hanbok and marching in commemorative parades. my parents are proud of me I think even though i’m not a very good son. i think it’s important historical traditions be preserved. i thnk that somebody needs 2 come up with something more interesting than historical re-enactments if people are going 2 be interested tho. maybe they should make an idol group that plays haegum. not rly any weirder than the concepts u see on inkigayo any week. 

He hits send without reading what he’s written. There’s something strange and direct about the questions this MLK guy asks that Himchan doesn’t like. He doesn’t know why he’s studying the janggu -- it just worked out that way. Sure, he thinks traditions ought to be preserved, but he’ll be the first to tell you it’s kind of boring. He doesn’t have some great mission or plan, honestly. He’s just trying to fumble through things as best he can. Isn’t that all anyone can ask? 

He shuts off his computer and lies down in bed. He’s not tired. Instead he stares at the ceiling and re-imagines the afternoon’s events. Himchan walks boldly up to the line and taking an applicant form. The company staff fall over each other in trying to get him to sign up for an audition. He waves them off -- this is just one of many options he’s considering. Someone calls his name. He looks up. It’s a tall boy, with sharp features and big eyes, speaking in a Busan accent. 

Before Himchan can respond, though, he falls asleep. His dreams are not kind enough to provide a conclusion to the story. 

*****

The basketball bounces once, twice, and then rolls off the court into the long grass at the side. Yongguk wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt. It’s still early in the year, but the sun is bright and warm and he’s already worked up a sweat. 

He is not happy today. It starts in the morning, when he wakes with even less of an appetite than usual and an aching head. His school slacks seem too stiff, his shoes too tight. In school he sits at the front of the room, head down, trying to ignore the chatter of his classmates talking about sports, about girls, about American movies and music. His headache gets worse. 

By lunch he feels sick to his stomach. Unable to eat, he gets a basketball from the gym. There are a few kids he knows by name and by sight playing a pickup game, but he doesn’t join them. Yongguk has never minded being alone, though. 

He walks over to get the ball from where it lays in a patch of weedy yellow dirt. A group of junior girls sits on the steps. They’re looking at something on someone’s phone. Their laughter sounds like birds in the morning.

These girls -- he wonders what they want. Good grades, a handsome boyfriend, admission into a top university. Simple desires, but they seem enormous. Yongguk understands, because things seem that way to him, too. 

Somehow, they’ve all been taught to want these things -- because the pretty girl in the popular drama wears these shoes and has this phone, because her boyfriend is tall and handsome, because her parents are paying for her to study overseas.

It makes him furious. His head pounds. He picks up the basketball and heaves it it at the basket. It hits the rim with a bang and careens off to the side. 

The girls look up, startled, and fall silent. 

“Sorry,” he says. 

They look away. 

He knows his reputation: even though he is near the top of his class, nobody will ever see him as anything other than the rapper, the kid who runs with a noisy, disrespectful underground crew. A bad kid. 

The anger makes his head start to pound again. 

Something about the school yard full of kids talking and playing happily seems twisted and wrong. Nonsense. Garbage. Junk. 

He wants to make it better. He wants to smash it apart. He wants …

The bell rings. He runs over to get the basketball, and dusts it off so he doesn’t get his shirt dirty. Class is about to begin again. There’s something terribly, terribly wrong about all of this -- he just doesn’t know what he can do to fix it. 

*****

"Himchan oppa," the girl says, "your new haircut looks really cute."

She glances at her friend and hides her grin behind her hand.

For just an instant, everything freezes and Himchan has no idea what to say or do. Even though people say nice things about his looks online, that's just the internet. It's totally different than some cute junior girl complimenting him. He even knows her name -- Chaeeun. She studies traditional singing, and was featured in the year end concert the year before.

"Thank you Chaeeun-ah," he says, grinning. "Your hair looks really cute too."

Her face goes a little bit red. "Thank you," she says.

"Are you going to try out for a role in the year end concert this year? You're so pretty, I bet you get the lead."

Her face goes even redder, and then goes white. She nods nervously, and then mutters an apology and takes off down the hall.

Himchan shakes his head. He reaches into his locker for his history book. He doesn't understand girls, but he's never found them hard to talk to. He just says the kind of thing he knows his nuna would like. It's not that hard.

His next class is across campus, and he knows he's got to leave to make it in time. Before he shuts the door to his locker he glances in the little mirror he's hung inside. Against his mother's protests, he got a haircut -- long in front and shorter on the sides. 

Chaeeun is right. It does look cute. He flicks a stray strand of hair back into place. If only he could get rid of these awful glasses ...

Nothing's different when he walks to class that day, but he walks with his head up and his back straight. Maybe a compliment from some hoobae doesn't really mean much, but he feels different, and that does matter.

*****

Yongguk puts his phone down. The Untouchable hyungs haven't gotten back to him yet, but he only texted them that afternoon. It's late, and the house is quiet. He worked tonight. He did better -- he made thirty calls and even sold four subscriptions. He's proud of that. Yongguk likes to do a good job.

He look at the message he's typing. Another reply to the selca guy. Yongguk hadn't expected him to reply in the first place, but it's been weeks now and they keep sending these messages back and forth -- about music and school and life. It's easy, which is strange, because usually it's very hard for Yongguk to talk to people. He doesn't even know this guy's name, and he's telling him things he'd never tell anyone in real life -- not even Yongnam.

I think it's normal not to know what you want to do. -- Selca says he's trying to decide what to study in university. -- Life is really long and I don't think it's possible to figure everything out by the time you're twenty. I just try to live as a good man.

Yongguk's fingers hover over the keys. It feels a bit foolish even to type this. 

I am going to ask my parents if I can pursue music. You're lucky your parents support you. Mine will not be happy. I have a friend who knows someone who works for an entertainment company. He said he can get me an audition with their president. I am … I am not sure what to do.

He closes his eyes and hits sent before he can reconsider.

Yongguk is good at giving advice, but asking for it is much harder. He's thought about this so many times though -- over and over and over and over -- and he cannot come to a conclusion. Maybe someone else can solve the problem.

Doing music professionally is his dream. He's never wanted anything more. But he wants to use music to change things, and make them better. When he thinks about auditioning, about being in an idol group, he thinks about the things he sees on TV: pretty boys and screaming fans, variety shows and black company cars. 

Fame.

Yongguk is afraid of wanting the wrong things.

*****


	46. Veela Zelo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of a YJ/ZL Harry Potter AU where Zelo is a Veela. This was intended for a friend /o\

Junhong is eleven when he goes to Hogwarts. He's average height and round-cheeked, and the only thing that marks him as ... unusual is his fine, silver-white hair.

Veela blood is notoriously temperamental. There are half-blooded Veela with mousy gray hair and dull skin. There are one-sixtheenth bloods who can charm a man to his grave. Junhong is one-eight Veela by blood. His mother is tall and painfully beautiful, but at eleven, there's no way of knowing if his fine blonde hair is a quirky throwback or if it means something more. Secretly he hopes that the hair is just that, and that he takes after his sturdy, ordinary father. 

Junhong is a pureblood, from an ancient but poor family. Their vault at Gringrotts is small and there are no treasures heaped inside. Their family 'estate' is a large stone house on a grey rocky stretch of land where nothing much grows other than stiff grass and sheep. Junhong thinks it's a beautiful place, but he knows not everyone would see it that way. 

For as far back as anyone can remember, Junhong's family have been sorted into Ravenclaw. As he shuffles into the Great Hall at Hogwarts for the first time, his mind is at ease. He knows he'll get sorted into Ravenclaw too. The Sorting Hat sings its song and the First Years go up one by one to get sorted. Each House cheers when they get a new student; Ravenclaw's cheers are spirited but not raucous. Junhong likes that. 

His name is called. He takes a seat on the stool and the hat drops over his head. Everything is dark, and the coarse fabric scratches his nose. 

"Ahhhh yes. I remember your father, and his father. And your mother! How could I forget her?" The Hat's voice is rough. "I see the intelligence, of course. No surprise there. And certainly the will to work hard. But you're not someone destined for a lifetime with your head in a book. You'll be in the spotlight, and the best place for you to shine is ..." 

"SLYTHERIN!" 

Junhong is numb as he walks to the table at the far end of the hall. He doesn't know ... the spotlight? Him? He doesn't want that at all.

***   
“Ouch.” 

Junhong frowns and rubs the sore spot on his head where he’s just banged it into the doorway of their compartment on the Hogwarts Express. The scarlet train looks the same as it did last year, and the year before, but Junhong is sure he didn’t remember it having such low ceilings and doorways. 

He drags his trunk in behind him and lifts it on to the rack. Freshman year he’d nearly killed himself trying to get it up there, and probably would have if Yongguk hyung hadn’t come along. Junhong’s a third year now, though, and Yongguk’s Head Boy, sitting up in the Prefects carriage. 

They’re all getting older. That’s what people do, he supposes. 

He straightens his shirt where it’s ridden up and brushes his hair out of his face. His father kept asking him to go into town and get it cut before school started (he’s not any good at all at household spells, as many of Junhong’s elementary school year book photos will attest) but Junhong kept putting it off and now it’s longer than he’s ever worn it. 

He’s gotten taller, too. His pants are too short at the ankle and his shirts have the most embarrassing tendency to ride up. He pulls it back down, glad that nobody else has … 

“Woah.” 

Junhong jumps, and nearly cracks his head again. 

“Hyung, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

Jongup is sitting in the corner, quiet and still as a statue. He grins, though, warm and familiar.

“Sorry,” he says. “I was watching a first year with her Muggle parents.” He looks thoughtful. “Do you ever wonder if Muggles think we’re the odd ones, Junhong?” 

Junhong barely knows any Muggles. He’s a pureblood, from an old family -- but a poor one. Their vault at Gringrotts is small and there is no treasure heaped inside. Their family 'estate' is a large stone house on a grey rocky stretch of land near the sea where nothing much grows other than coarse grass and sheep. There’s a village a few miles away, but Junhong never went to school there with the other children. 

“I’m not sure, hyung,” he says, after a moment. 

“Ah,” Jongup says. “I’ll need to ask Youngjae when he gets here. He’ll know, I’m sure.” 

Junhong nods, and takes a seat across from Jongup. 

“How was your summer?” he asks. 

“Good,” Jongup says. “How was yours?” 

“Good,” Junhong says. “I didn’t really do anything much.” 

Jongup narrows his eyes. He turns his head one way, and then the other. “Junhong,” he says. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but you’ve gotten … sparkly.” 

"Sparkly? Who's sparkly?" Himchan's loud voice is unmistakable. He bursts into the compartment with his trunk and his bags and his sleek black cat Tatsu. Daehyun is close behind him. "Junhong, have you secretly been a vampire this whole time and not told us? Or are you just going through a glam rock phase?" 

Glam rock ...? Is that some kind of gemstone you use in potions? "Hyung, vampires aren't sparkly. Weren't you paying attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Himchan sighs. "It's a joke, Junhong. A _Muggle_ joke."


	47. Selkie Youngjae / Sailor Daehyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I started this on twitter a long time ago. I think subsequently several stories like this have been written so no point in continuing this one.

The storm comes up out of nowhere. No — not nowhere. It comes out of the West, where there are clouds mounting on the horizon slowly all day. They pile up and up, distant off-white mountains, but Daehyun ignores them, because the sun is hot and the sky overhead at least is blue.

He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and sits down in the shade of the sail to eat the lunch his mother packed: kimbap and cool mint tea, banchan in a little metal lunch box.

(Daehyun took his lunch to school in a metal lunchbox too — but not one dented and dull from the salt air. That had been painted with bright sea shapes: massive whales, leaping dolphins, clever seals grinning. But he doesn’t go to school any more and he doesn’t know where that lunchbox is now.)

After lunch, he’s busy. The fish are biting. His boat — eighteen feet from bow to stern, with a single, slender mast — can’t go out into the deep water where the massive commercial boats go. He’s bound to the coast and the warm, shallow waters, catching squid and crabs and small bait fish. It would be better money, signing on as crew aboard one of those ships. He knows the captain of the [ ] and captain of the [ ]. He has known these men since childhood. If nothing else, they would give him a place in their crew out of loyalty to his father.

But it’s a hard life, working the boats. Daehyun knows it would mean more money and less stress for his mother. But it would also mean long days at sea in the sun and the wind and the rain. It would mean no time to sit in his bedroom as the sun is setting and sing along with the radio. It would mean being worn down by the weather and the wind, old before his time.

It would mean a final and conclusive abandonment of any of his dreams.

So they get by on the money he brings in from fishing the bay in his lost father’s boat and the money that his mother brings in doing mending and making ointments and tonics out of herbs she gathers in the rocks on the headland, and Daehyun clings to the possibility that one day he will be relieved of obligation and rewarded for sacrificing so much. He dreams one day he'll be free to fly as far and fast as the winds can carry him, all the way out of this tiny seaside town to the capital, and to fame.

*****

Swirling, deep. The waters respond to the skies, and they churn. Silver flickering schools of fish, disturbed in their midday feeding. Scuttling crabs burrow into the mud.

There are safe places in the rocks. On the other side of the headland the water is deeper and humans don't go. There are sheltered places where the rocks rear up just out from the shore, and those are safe places to wait out a storm. 

He knows this. He's not a pup. He learned to read the currents at his brother's side, a long time ago. He knows that soon the rain will fall in dark, thick curtains and sky and sea will be joined in a tumult. He can go to the rocks and shelter with the calves and the pups, or he can stay in the wide sea and dance on the mad currents. The storm is powerful, but he is powerful too, and nowhere is he more powerful than in these waters.

He is young and strong and free, and all choices are his.

*****

The ropes are rough as Daehyun hauls in the last of his crab traps. A few, small crabs scuttle to the back, wary. He sighs. These little guys aren't worth anything. He opens the door of the trap and shakes them back into the water.

One more trap to check, and then he'll head back to harbor. He can see larger boats already heading in. The winds have picked up, and the clouds that were gathering in the west all day are darker. They'll have storms tonight.

He's cutting back towards his last trap, which is tied to an old channel marker a few hundred yards out from the shore. It's been many years since they re-dredged the channels for the big new boats with gasoline engines, and the pilings of this old relic are rotting away. Cormorants and gulls wheel, agitated, as he pulls his boat up. There's a salty, earthy, rotten smell of droppings and dead fish.

His trap is tied to the broken metal mounting, rusting and twisted. He hauls up the rope. It's fraying and needs to be replaced, but he'll save that task for the long, lonely dark nights of winter, when he's desperate for things to keep his hands and his mind busy.

The trap is full. Relief is like a palpable wave, washing over him. Crabs as big as his hand cling to the metal with their curved, sharp claws. He pulls the trap into the boat. The wind is stronger. He leaves the angry crabs stewing in their cage while he tightens down the mainsail.

The crabs spit bubbles as he tosses them into his bucket. In the cool sea water, they retreat, calmer but wary. The boat rocks. The bay is usually calm; this choppiness means bad weather is closer than Daehyun realized. 

He hurries, but there's one stubborn holdout clinging to the back corner of the cage. He reaches in, grabbing, but the big old crab scuttles sideway out of his grasp. His sleeve catches on the door of the trap. The crab clamps down on his finger, but his gloves are thick. He's got it.

The first big drops of rain start to fall.

He's grown up on the water. Squalls like this aren't unknown. He's sailed through them before. Tightening the mainsail even further, he pulls up the anchor and pushes off from the pilings. The raindrops are big and cold, and all the hair on his arm is standing on end. His boat is a good boat; she's always been good to him at least, and he knows her as well as he knows his own voice. Locking the tiller, he climbs up to drop the jib. The water is an ugly grey color not all that much different than the color of the sky.

The wind is blowing in the wrong direction, straight out from the shore, and he's got to tack to get in. The waves slap the side of the boat and spray dances up and over the boards. He would be soaked if he weren't already wet to the bone. His hair drips in his face. The wind gusts so strong he has to grab on to one of the shrouds to keep his balance. The tiller shudders. The wind howls again, and then with a terrible noise the line holding the shudder snaps.

Then everything turns and twists as the boat rolls onto her side. He's breathless and gasping, shoving hard at the stiff canvas but not even sure if he's standing on his own feet. Then there's another crack, wood splintering and rope snapping, and Daehyun is under water.

*****

The waves are a joy. A thrill. The water rises and falls and rises again, angry. The churn is powerful, but not so powerful that he can't glide through it, sleek and entirely in control. This is his place. These waters are what he knows and loves, even now.

He stays far away from the channel, where the the slicing, biting motors of the human boats groan and shudder. All the boats are coming in. The humans pretend that they can control the sea. They drop their lines and their nets to snare the unwary, and their boats prowl through the waters, ungraceful and dangerous, but when the weather turns like this and the sea and the sky are one dark, glowing world of water and light -- well, then this is no place for humans.

He swirls, up to the surface. The skies are grey and the rain is falling. He sees something white a little further off and he thinks it is a gull. A very foolish gull who hasn't yet taken wing. But then he realizes that it's further off than it seemed at first and it's not a gull but the white wing-sail of a human boat, and that it has fallen, and that someone is struggling in the water.

Quickly as only a seal can go, he is racing through the water towards the floundering ship. There's not even a moment of hesitation -- not really, not even though he knows the consequences of what he's about to do all too well. The ship is a wild, ugly, unnatural thing, and he is wary of swimming too close. Ropes lash like tentacles through the water, and jagged bits of wood bob in the uncertain current.

Then he sees the body.


	48. Muted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER CONTENT WARNINGS: Body Horror, muteness, abduction, imprisonment, implied violence and torture -- Please take note before reading -- 
> 
> This was intended to fill a prompt I got on Ask.FM based on this TATU video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z3bCJ-rqkMw (contains violence and death). I really like some of the world building, but it is not a happy video or a happy story and ultimately I kind of wrote myself into a corner. Maybe one day I'll revisit this universe, but I don't think this particular story will ever get done.

He is Unmarked, and when he's fulfilling the duties of his station he wears tight leggings of creamy white leather -- real leather, not synthetic -- and a shirt of white silk strips that cocoon his torso and shoulders and then flutter free. His hair is dyed light and his eyes are made up with gunmetal shadow and dark liner. In this dark city, the Unmarked stand out like stars in the night sky.

Tonight he was sent to a party at a private residence. That's unusual, but not unheard of. He knows why he is here. Any person with enough money and influence to own his own house -- set back from the grim road behind a wall of grey stone, graceful and traditional in form -- is someone to be reckoned with, but this man is the Upper Director of Silence for all of the River District. There are few with more power, outside of the Censors themselves, and he knows who Daehyun is, and he's asked for him to come.

Jongup, his minder, touches his wrist. It's time for him to perform. Daehyun nods, and steps forward, bowing his head. Jongup takes out the key, and presses it to the silver collar that sits low on Daehyun's throat. The key engages, and the lock opens with a click.

Jongup slides the collar off, and sets it in his case.

Daehyun rubs his throat. He should be used to it, but even after all this time the slight rush that comes with being Uncollared surprises him.

He smiles at Jongup. "Thank you," he says.

*****

They take him in the early morning, when he is coming back to the dorm. Yongguk is with him. They aren't talking -- of course not; Yongguk is a minder, and his Mark is a complex knot of graceful lines. His vocabulary is generous. There was a time when Yongguk might give him a few extra hours Uncollared, slipping the terrible silver thing back around his neck only when they were around the corner from the dorm.

But Youngjae knows he's being watched now, and Yongguk is a good man, but he is not stupid. Youngjae was Collared as soon as he was done singing.

He is tired. He has not slept well lately, not in the dark, cramped new chamber they gave him. Yongguk is walking a step or two behind him. The night air is damp and cool, chill damp from the river creeping through the streets. A car is on the street behind them. Youngjae steps aside. A car -- no matter who's in it -- is a sign of power, and is to be respected. The car slows. Youngjae looks back at Yongguk, whose face is still and whose gaze is averted.

He knows.

The car doors open, and someone tall in dark clothing steps out.

Youngjae closes his eyes.

*****

Daehyun is given a room to warm up. It's a small room with a leather couch, a desk and chair, and a window overlooking the stunted, sad gardens. Jongup stands outside the door, barring the way -- both in and out.

There is a bottle of water in a bucket of ice, and clean white towels, and a few other things for his use. A man like the Upper Director of Silence doesn't have to observe formalities exactly -- there is no seeded biscuit, for example -- but he seems like a man who prides himself on the wealth and neat orderliness of his house.

He sits at the desk and stares at himself in the mirror. His eyes are dark. Nights have been sleepless lately. For those long weeks when they came to him in the middle of the night and took him and questioned him, exhaustion dragged on him like an anchor and he drifted through his duties like a dead man. Now, other than Jongup's slightly unusual attentiveness, he is left alone, but he still can't sleep. The exhaustion doesn't bother him as much any longer, though. There are much heavier things weighing his heart down now.

He pours a glass of water. He should be practicing now: scales and vocal exercises to make his voice limber, reading through the selections the Programmers chose for this evening's entertainment. He should be, but when the water hits his throat he coughs, and the coughing turns into a harsh bark, and then before he knows it he's crying. Not just crying, actually, but wailing, like all the terrible pain that is silenced while he's collared is spilling out at once. He presses his forearm to his eyes to stifle the hot tears. Before he performs, he'll need to redo his eye makeup. Before he performs, he'll need to compose himself. But he has these few moments to himself, and for now he cries.

If Jongup hears him crying, he hasn't said anything. If Jongup has reported this subversion, Daehyun doesn't know.

*****

He is in the car for a long time. They do not bind him, and he keeps his hands flat on his thighs as he should. The windows are tinted and after a very short time he loses all sense of where they are or what direction they are traveling.

When the car stops, it is nearly dawn, and Youngjae is so tired he can barely stand. They are in a cobblestone courtyard in front of a low stone building. A tall brick wall topped with electrified wire surrounds the compound. A man waits in the pool of light beside the dark black hole of the doorway.

Youngjae's door is opened, and the guard says, "Out."

He gets up, and his captor -- he still can't see the person's face -- gestures towards the door, and the man waiting there. It is silent, and there is nothing to see beyond the walls of this place except the bare branches of a few trees, set a good way back. Youngjae's heart trembles in his chest.

The man at the door smiles as Youngjae comes near. He is young, and good looking, and he seems a bit sad.

"Welcome," he say, in a steady, practiced voice. "I've been waiting for you, Youngjae."

Youngjae sees his Mark now: three black dots, arranged in a triangle.

This man is Unmuted.

Youngjae's hands start to shake. He presses them against his thighs again, to hide his fear.

*****

"Are you ready?" Jongup asks. His Mark is a lattice of thin and thicker lines, sophisticated and complex. His mutes are selective and few in number. Still, he is courteous and he never speaks to Daehyun when Daehyun is Collared and can't respond.

Daehyun nods. "I'm ready," he says. He glances in the mirror before he stands. His eyes are red, but his makeup is fixed, and he looks as he should.

He can hear the murmur of conversation through the open door. At a home like this, in a crowd like this, feeling Unmarked doesn't feel so strange. Many -- most, even, of these people -- will be unmuted. They have words upon words upon words at their disposal. They can speak very nearly freely.

Jongup is standing in the doorway, unobtrusive and solid in his dark clothing. He watches Daehyun with no expression on his face. "You must miss him, huh?"

Daehyun is Unmarked. There's no Censor chip in his throat, deadening sound and muting words. When he's uncollared, his voice is free and strong.

There's one word, though, he'll never bring himself to say.

He closes his eyes and steps out of the room

*****

They take off his clothes -- the white clothes that set him apart as someone Unmarked -- and tell him to shower. The guards don't treat him roughly, exactly. Their Marks are dark and solid. There's not much they could say, even if they were so inclined. He hesitates a moment, awkward in his nakedness. His status -- valued and precious even among the Unmarked -- granted him uncommon privilege. He shared an apartment with just one other at the dormitory, and he was given the freedom to shower and sleep and eat in his own way, on his own schedule.

None of his old acclaim -- one of the first voices in the country -- matters any longer. He waits a moment and then he steps under the spray. The water is cold. He shifts from foot to foot. He's tired, but the cold water is waking him, little by little. He blinks, and scrubs his eyes. He can't see, but he imagines the dark mascara he put on so many hours ago is running down his face.

He dries himself and steps into the clothing they hand him: baggy, anonymous clothing of thin grey cotton. His white clothes are gone. They sit him on a stool in the middle of the room and they cut his hair.They do it crudely, with scissors, hacking and cutting and soon his blonde hair falls to the floor at his feet.

The man who was waiting for him at the door steps forward. Maybe he was in the room the whole time, watching as Youngjae showered, watching the whole time. Maybe he stepped back in. Things are strange here. The shadows grow and shrink. The Silence controls sound. His chest aches at the thought of them controlling light too.

"Much better," the man from the door says. "Come here."

He beckons, and Youngjae steps forward. All the Unmarked are trained in obedience. Youngjae didn't take to those lessons as well as most but ... well, that's why he's here. 

The man takes something out of his pocket and lifts his hands to Youngjae's throat. He presses the key into the notch in Youngjae's collar, and then Youngjae feels the familiar buzz-burning sensation of the collar loosening its grip on his muscles. He breathes in deep.

"You look nearly like a normal person now," the man says, approvingly. His hand rests on Youngjae's neck, where his Mark would be. "Nearly ..."

*****

Daehyun is not from the capital. He grew up in a small city by the sea, far away. Things work differently there. Life is simple. Unmarked are rare, and only the agents of the Silence are Unmuted. Most people have only those words they need to manage their daily affairs: even greetings are extraneous. He remembers working in his father's boat a long, long time ago, before he finished school and was chosen to come here and train his voice. He remembers the way his father could say "Close." And Daehyun knew to haul in the nets. "Far," and he knew to cast them back into the sea.

The Silence says that silence brings grace and contemplation to humankind. Daehyun never felt anything back then was simple or peaceful or good, even though his father's Mark was so thick it was nearly a solid band around his neck. Nothing was better back then, just because the Vocal Interrupter behind that mark (the scars of whose implantation the mark was designed to hide) permitted him to speak only two hundred words. 

The stage is at the far end of the room. Most fine houses have stages, because if Silence is blessed then noise must be channeled and controlled. The Unmarked are the vessel of that control, and if you are wealthy enough it is seemly to stage performances as often as you can afford. The lights come on. The audience, Unmuted though many of them are, is utterly quiet.

Daehyun closes his eyes. He was trained with Youngjae and he performed with Youngjae and to be alone feels wrong and strange and awful. But he is alone, and it is his own fault. They came to him, and he talked, and now he will never see Youngjae again.

But he can and he must still sing.

*****

"My name is Himchan," the Unmuted man says.

Youngjae stares sullenly at the plate of unappetizing food a servant set in front of him. He is hungry, but he doesn't want to eat this. At the house where he performed the night before, they had served whole fish, baked in coals and still steaming when the guests opened them. This grey stuff barely looks like food.

"You're not going to get to eat again for a while," Himchan says. He has a friendly, gregarious air, but there is something calculated about it. "You're a smart man, Youngjae. I've seen your reviews from the Academy. If you don't eat now, you'll probably regret it later on."

Youngjae chews the unappetizing food. He knows that this man is right, but his stomach churns and his head aches and pushes the plate away after a moment.

The man looks sad. "Ah, that's it then? Well, I suppose we should get started."

*****

Daehyun closes his eyes, and he sings. In his heart, and his mind, Youngjae is still with him, but they took Youngjae two months ago now, and it's Daehyun's fault.

He still doesn't know how they knew.

Unmuted men came to him as he walked home from a job. Before he returned to the comfortable, clean, spacious dorm that he and Youngjae shared, they came to him and they took him in a car to large anonymous building, and they questioned him. They screamed and they cajoled. They threatened and pleaded.

"Just tell us if he said it," they asked. "We don't want to punish either of you, but words are powerful, dangerous things, and we need to know who said it."

But Daehyun was still collared, and even though he struggled and strained, he couldn't speak.

He doesn't know how long they kept him in that building. He can't think of it now, except in abstract, indirect ways. They questioned him for a very long time, a rotating cast of men in the same dark, anonymous clothing, and he was given very little to eat, and his sleep was interrupted, and he was kept in a small, dark room, and then finally when he was so tired and hungry and weary that his hands were shaking the main man, the man who had said the least but been watching the whole time, came to Daehyun and and took a keep from his pocket and unlocked his collar.

"Tell us what he said, singer," the man said. "You see how frustrating it is to be voiceless? And you have such a lovely, important voice. It is not a voice that should be lost to the Silence. Tell us what he said, and we will save your voice."

Daehyun's throat is sore and his whole body aches and he is so tired he barely knew what he was saying. He is trembling and sad and he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know who told on them. Yongguk? Jongup? Someone else? Maybe the dorm was bugged the whole time.

He doesn't know what answer will save Youngjae, because he knows they already know what they’re asking him to confess.

"He said he loved me," he says.

The man smiles a placid, quiet smile. "Good. You are a good person, Daehyun. We know that, but to hear the words from your own lips … that is damning evidence."

*****

Himchan comes for Youngjae again the next morning. Youngjae has not slept. He knows it's morning only because Himchan says so, cheerful and pleasant and not at all what Youngjae would have expected from an Unmuted agent of the Silence.

"Good morning," Himchan says. "I hope you slept well."

Youngjae, Collared again, nods.

"Good," Himchan says, pleased. "Let's continue then, shall we?"

Youngjae doesn't move. He cannot speak.

"We can stay in here," Himchan says. "Or we can move, if you'd be more comfortable."

Youngjae shrugs.

Himchan's kindness seems sincere, and Youngjae thinks that if the world weren't such a twisted, awful place this man would be the kind of man he'd want as a friend. He is just doing his job, after all, and Youngjae has always understood the importance of doing a job well. 

"Very well," Himchan says, sighing. He sits down in the chair at the table. Youngjae, sitting on the bed, is a little lower. "I need to tell you that you're going to be Marked, Youngjae."

Youngjae brings his hands to his throat, where the collar rests over his Unmarked skin. He doesn't know how his expression changes, but it makes Himchan sigh again and look away.

"There's no use getting upset," Himchan says. "I know it _must_ be upsetting, but that question is settled. Your friend told us, you know. What you said. And there's no way that the Silence can let someone who said what you said remain Unmarked."

He closes his eyes. Youngjae is shaking now.

"There are no words more dangerous than those words, Youngjae," Himchan says. His voice is slow and even. "So you'll have to be marked. But if you tell me what your friend said, we will remember that, and we'll take it into account."

Youngjae shakes his head. With the collar off he can speak -- he is Unmarked, and he can say any words he wants -- but he doesn't, even though the thought of that silence -- permanent and painful -- terrifies him.

He said those words to Daehyun because he believed them. If he betrays Daehyun now and makes his words into a shallow, meaningless mockery, he'll just be confirming everything the Silence and the Censors have always said.

He shakes his head again, and says nothing.

*****

The first song is done. The final notes trail off and silence returns and they all bow their heads in contemplation.

This is what the Silence has given them: order, restraint, time and space for contemplation. There is no distracting clamor of conversation, no sarcastic muttering or impatient clearing of throats. There is silence, and with that silence they gain the time and the place and the mechanism to understand the value of sound, when it blooms out of silence, to appreciate the lingering beauty of song, after it fades away.

Then the lights are raised and the guests lift their heads and -- because they are rich and powerful and many are Unmuted -- the conversation starts, quiet and intentional, because right now they are full of awe and righteous observance.

Daehyun did that, singing songs that start and stop, songs that are full of the joy of sound, the playfulness of sound, twisting and jumping and starting and stopping. They are beautiful, and sometimes when Daehyun sings them even he feels the awe and mystery that his singing is supposed to evoke in all the others.

But the singing is done, for now. He sits, at a table by himself off to the side of the room. They do not send him away, because he will be needed later, but he is Unmarked and right now Uncollared and it would not do for any of these powerful, wealthy, proper people to speak to him.

So he sits and he waits for a servant to bring his meal, because it is the responsibility of the patron to feed the singer. Before, often, for a long time, Youngjae would be with him and even if they could not talk openly they could sign to each other using the fast subtle sign language the Unmarked use and maybe even dare a whisper, if the current of conversation got loud and raucous enough.

Now he is alone. He thinks about his voice, and about the song he will sing later, at the close of the meal, and he nods his head in gratitude when the servant sets a plate in front of him. He is glad for the chancel to rest, and eat, and for a little while not worry about anything. The man -- pale skin and find hands, dark hair and a thick black mark all around his neck -- hesitates for a moment. His hands shake.

His fingers nails, Daehyun notices are bitten to the quick.

Many people bite their fingernails. It is an uncouth habit, but it's not uncommon. Still, Daehyun knows those hands -- or he thinks he does.

But before he can look up into the man's face to confirm his guess, the servant is gone.

*****

It's worse now.

Youngjae can't remember how long he's been here. He tried to keep it straight in his mind but the room is dark and there are no windows and he does not know any longer. If forced to guess he would say it's been three days -- because that man Himchan came three times and brought more food. But then Youngjae is very hungry and it's entirely possible that Himchan brought food only once every two days, or every three.

Or --

Nothing's really certain.

The noise, more than anything, is throwing him off.

Silence uses noise as its weapon. All the terrible violent noises that the Silence did away with -- blaring sirens and electronic shrieks and quiet beeps that he almost thinks he's imagining. These aren't noises that Youngjae is used to. He is used to hushed street and quiet homes. In his cell, crouched, he braces himself for the next blast of noise. When he drifts off to sleep the noises wake him, so he is weary on top of disoriented and his nerves jitter, close to shattering.

They are trying to disconcert him, and they are trying to get him to think they're right, and they're trying to get him to tell on Daehyun.

But he won't do that.

The door opens. Himchan walks him. He looks sad.

"You're a talented singer, Youngjae," he says. "I listened to some recordings. Yes -- we record all the Unmarked, although it isn't publicized. You are talented, and with your partner the music you made was glorious in the praise of Silence."

Youngjae's throat feels dry. They recorded the music he made with Daehyun, and Himchan listened to it? It feels like they tore some secret thing out of him.

"It's a shame," Himchan says. "But I'm afraid you're going to be marked. Tomorrow."

Youngjae feels something freeze up inside of him.

Himchan shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but it has to be done. The order came from the highest authority." He purses his lips. "If there’s anything you’d like to say, now would be the time to say it.” 

******

The meal is ending.

The guests are full and pleased, and talking quietly amongst themselves. This, Daehyun thinks, mus be what it was like everywhere -- before the Silence. Every person burdened with the weight of choosing the right words out of all the many thousands. Every person tasked to chase conversation and thought in any direction it might flow.

It's frightening and dangerous and thrilling. He remembers how strange everything seemed, that first year, how the whole world seemed to open up and unfold before him.

He remembers, too, the sudden electric thrill when, late at night, Youngjae rolled over in the bed they shared by choice and smiled softly and said, "I love you."

Daehyun had never heard those words spoken aloud before, and even after all he'd learned and all he'd seen and the dawning realization that things were crooked deep down at the heart of all of it, he could not bring himself to say them back.

(Later, in reflection, well after things fell apart, he realized that although he had never said those words, he had loved people. The warm, untroubled affection he felt for his mother, and the stiff admiration he felt for his father, and the complicated push and pull envy and friendship he felt for his brother: they were all love. The way his heart seemed to tremble and his skin felt too small when he saw Youngjae ... that too was certain love. 

He thinks if he'd realized it sooner, he may have said so.)

A servant comes up and clears his plate and he knows it's time for him to prepare to sing the last song. Song out of silence and song into silence and his voice bookends the evening. He stands and looks for Jongup and ...

That other servant is there again, at the far end of the room, and although his hair is cut short and there is a Mark on his neck Daehyun recognizes him. Broad shoulders and high cheekbones and narrow wrists -- he knows all the parts of that body better than he knows his own. How could he not recognize him?

It's Youngjae.

*****


	49. Youngjae Centric High School AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't even remember what this was going to be -- I think I was going to play with inverting the whole 'nerd falls for cool kid' trope?

Youngjae shrugs his backpack onto his shoulders. The dark sky is heavy with low, grey clouds. He brushes his long, floppy bangs out of his eyes. He’d begged his mom to let him cut it finally but she’d refused. She said he looked cute. 

“Just great,” he mumbles. “Junior year, and I still have a stupid kid haircut.” 

As he gets closer to school, a feeling of doom descends. Until this morning, he’d thought maybe this school year would be different. He’d spent most of the summer visiting his appa and his hyung in Australia. The weather was warm and they’d gone to the beach all the time (and okay Youngjae had worn a tee shirt to the beach but it was only because he didn’t want to get sunburned). He hadn’t had any great summer romance or anything like that (he could only dream) but he loved his hyung a lot and it had been so good to spend time together away from the same old dreariness of home. 

But the summer had rushed past and now he’s home again. 

He sighs. 

It’s not that Youngjae hates his life or anything. He’s got a mom that loves him, even if she’s overbearing. He does well at school, he’s good at videogames, and he’s not unspeakably ugly or anything. 

He’s pretty average at everything, actually. And in his high school, average means you’re nothing at all. 

A car rushes past and kicks up a spray of dirty water that soaks him up to the ankles. He scowls at the direction of the receding car but the driver doesn’t care that he’s just ruined someone’s day with his thoughtlessness. The black wool of Youngjae’s school pants hides the stains, but it feels cold and gross and he’s going to be stuck like this until he has gym in fifth period. 

He knows it doesn’t really mean anything. It was just an accident but this seems like a terrible omen for the year ahead, and it’s not like he needed anything to make him feel worse than he already did. He wonders if it’s too late to go home and pull the covers over his head and pretend like he caught some tropical disease in Australia. Anything sounds better than starting eleventh grade. 

*****

Junhong is waiting for Youngjae at his locker. It would be a lie to say that Junhong is his only friend but -- okay, yeah. Junhong is kind of his only friend. 

They met the year before when Junhong was in Youngjae’s Japanese language class. Junhong is like really, really smart. They skipped him ahead a grade because he was so bored at school, but Youngjae could tell he was totally lost in Japanese 3. So he sat next to the tall, lonely boy with pink hair and pointed out where in the chapter the teacher was lecturing from. 

They don’t have too much in common, honestly. Junhong is tall and good looking and good at sports and he can dance and rap and he’s smart. 

Youngjae is just Youngjae, but he figures the reason they’re still friends is because Junhong is shy and also too nice to just stop being friends with him. 

“Hyung!” Junhong calls out as soon as he sees Youngjae. His eyes are wide and he’s smiling. “How are you? How was Australia? I liked all the pictures you took. Wow. You got really tan.” 

Youngjae grins. Junhong doesn’t always talk a lot but when he’s excited about something it can be hard to get him to shut up. 

“I’m good Junhong,” he says. “Wow. I think you got even taller over the summer, huh?” 

Junhong nods, frowning. “I did. I didn’t want to, but I did.” 

“Don’t complain,” Youngjae sighs. “I wish I had gotten taller.” 

“Hyung, you’re not …” 

“I know, I know. I’m not short. But I’m not tall either, Junhong.” 

Junhong wrinkles his nose. He hates it when Youngjae talks down about himself but then again, he’s a perfect prodigy, so he doesn’t really get a say in it. 

“I know, hyung. What’s your schedule like?” 

Youngjae looks at his schedule. “I have Korean first, then Math, then Physics.” 

“Woah,” Junhong looks impressed. “Isn’t that a senior level class?” 

Youngjae nods. “Yeah, but I persuaded Kim Seonsangnim to let me take it this year so I could take Calculus and Statistics next year.” 

Youngjae’s dream is to be a professional video game designer. He’s not very good at art (actually, he’s terrible at it) so he’s trying to prepare as much as he can for the programming part. 

Junhong shakes his head. “Hyung, I know you always tell me I’m crazy, but you’re kind of crazy too.” 

Youngjae shrugs. He’s not -- he doesn’t do nearly as many activities as Junhong, so he has more time for homework. He’s just trying to get a leg up and do something that will let him stand out. 

“You’re still gonna come out for the soccer team with me, right hyung?” Junhong makes those puppydog eyes, like Youngjae isn’t immune to that shit. 

“I don’t know …” When Youngjae had promised last year, he figured he could spend the summer practicing and losing some weight, getting into shape so that the tryout wasn’t a total joke. 

“You’re good hyung!” Junhong makes the puppydog eyes even bigger. “Pleaaase!” 

“We’ll see, Junhong.” 

Suddenly, the shrill warning bell before first period rings. Youngjae sighs. “Hurry up and get to class. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

*****

Youngjae’s made it all the way to third period and the day hasn’t gotten much worse. It hasn’t gotten much better, either, but he didn’t expect it to. He waves to the same people in his classes he’s always waved to and sometimes they wave back. He’s always the first to raise his hands when the teacher poses a question. In Korean class, when he’s trying to answer about the author of a Joseon epic, Jung Daehyun and his crew of dopey meat heads throw a wadded up piece of paper that hits him right in the back of the head. Everyone laughed. 

The teacher was old and blind and had yelled at them all to shut up. Seriously, if the teachers can’t even keep order in the classroom they ought to have to retire or something. 

The Physics teacher is young and nice, so Youngjae feels reassured. He takes a seat in the middle of the classroom, off to one side, where he shouldn’t attract too much attention. He’s a little nervous about being in class with seniors. He takes out his notebook and lines his pencils up on the desk when someone sits down at the desk beside him. 

“Ah, hello.” 

Youngjae turns to look over and see who it is and -- 

Oh my god. It’s Bang Yongguk. 

His cheeks turn bright red. 

“You must be new. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” 

“Um,” Youngjae says. “No. Um. I’m just … I’m a junior, and I’ve got special permission to take this class.” 

Yongguk’s eyes go wide. “Ah, you must be really smart then. I’m Yongguk.”

“I’m Youngjae,” he mumbles, “and I’m not.” 

Yongguk starts to say something, but then -- and Youngjae never thought he’d ever be thankful to see Kim Himchan -- his friend comes in and Yongguk looks away to greet him instead. 

Youngjae swallows. His cheeks must be so, so red. He’s still figuring this stuff out, but the thing is he kind of maybe sort of has a crush on Yongguk. 

Youngjae isn’t gay. Well, he’s not sure if he’s gay, anyway. He definitely like, likes girls. He just likes boys once in a while too. And nobody can blame him for having a crush on Bang Yongguk: he’s tall and smart and handsome and the star of the soccer team and rumor has it that he even raps under a secret name at clubs on the weekend. 

Ugh. And now he’s going to be Youngjae’s seat partner for the rest of the year? He’s going to make a ridiculous idiot out of himself. He’s going to do something so stupid that he’ll never live it down. He’s going to -- 

“Hey, kid.” 

He looks up. It’s Kim Himchan. 

“I don’t mean to be a, uh, jerk or anything, but do you think you could move so I could sit with my buddy Yongguk here?” 

Youngjae bites his lip, and nods. Yongguk looks embarrassed but relieved and Himchan is already moving on to sneaking his phone out before the teacher gets here. Slowly, Youngjae puts his things in his bag. He moves into one of the empty seats of the back of the room. 

It should be a relief, right? Now he’s not going to be able to make an idiot out of himself. Now he’s going to be able to concentrate on his schoolwork, like he should. Now he’s … 

Now he feels awful. He blinks and wills himself not to start crying. He’d like to wait until at least the second day of school for that. 

*****


	50. BAP is a rock band?? And picks up Daehyun hitchhiking?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LOL I don't even know. This was one of the first B.A.P fics I ever started. My nostalgia for boys in a van fic is showing here.

Jung Daehyun is beginning to think he's made a terrible mistake.

It's approaching half past two in the morning. He's in a van that's making death sounds with four men he's never met before. He doesn't even know their names. He's headed for a city he's visited only once with a pitiful amount of money in his pocket, and right now ... right now he's thinking his father was right. He should have stayed home. He should have given up his dream and stayed home to tend the hardware store and he should have been content with that.

"Let me out here," he says. It's late, but there's always a chance he'll find someone going the other way -- back towards Busan. They haven't gone very far. If he turns back now, he can be home before his parents have even woken up.

The driver -- Daehyun's been thinking of him as Froggy, because he's got this gruff croak of a voice -- shakes his head. "I can't let you out here," he says. "It's the middle of the night, and we're too far from any town. It wouldn't be safe."

Daehyun nods, frowning. He appreciates Froggyi's concern but the van makes another worrying noise and lurches suddenly.

"Yah," says one of the guys in the back seat. He's the only other one awake, but he's been absorbed in some video game for the entire hour since they stopped to pick Daehyun up. All Daehyun can see of him is a heavy fringe of black hair and improbably round cheeks. "I thought you said your brother fixed this thing!"

"He did," Froggy says, frowning. "I mean, he said he did ..."

"Does it sound fixed to you?" Cheeks asks.

"No ..." Froggy sighs. The van shudders. The banging noise is louder.

"Really," Daehyun says. He's holding onto the strap of his backpack so tightly his knuckles are white. "You can just let me off ..."

"Just wait," Froggy says. "Ah, we're gonna have to stop."

"I told you," Cheeks says. "Hyung, I told you we should take it to a real mechanic."

"Woah, woah!" A third of the men is awake. Well, men might be stretching it a bit far. As far as Daehyun can tell these guys are barely older than he is. He doesn't like to think about what four guys not even out of their teens are doing driving across the country in the dead of night. He doesn't think it's likely to be anything good. "Hyung, the van's about to explode."

"I told him that already!" Cheeks says. 

"Ah, all of you, cut it out!" Froggy narrows his eyes in annoyance. "It's not going to explode. We'll make it back to Seoul, no problem."

The third man scowls. He's got big, piercing eyes and hair that's sticking up every which way. "It doesn't sound like we're going to make it another ten kilometers." He sounds disgusted.

"I knew we should have taken to a real mechanic," Cheeks says again.

"Yah, and how were we going to pay for that?" Crazy Eyes asks. "I didn't see you offering to pay for it."

"I paid the when we had to fix the ignition!" Cheeks yells, outraged. 

"What's going in?" The last of Daehyun's inept rescuers is awake and rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Guys, the car doesn't sound very --"

"Ah, I know!" Froggy yells. "You guys are going to make me crazy, I swear."

There's a light up ahead. If it ends up being anything more substantial than a street lamp, Daehyun is getting out, even if he has to open the door and jump for it. He could totally pull that off. He's seen a lot of action movies. But, as luck turns out, he doesn't have to resort to such drastic measures.

"A gas station! Please, let's stop!" He doesn't care if he sounds desperate. He is getting out of this van and away from these crazy people even if it means he has to go back to Busan and never leave again as long as he lives.

"You must be our lucky charm!" Crazy Eyes says. "High five!"

Daehyun holds his hand up weakly. "Um, I'm not sure about that ..."

They barely make it to the gas station. The van is rattling and shuttering and heaving, and none of them say a word, too worried that they'll jinx it. With a final pitiful shudder they pull into parking lot. Moths flutter around the lamp, and there's no sign of anyone. 

"Ah, we made it." Froggy says. "I'm gonna go see what's up." He gets out of the car, leaving his door open to the muggy night .

"Made it where?" Cheeks says snidely. "Doesn't look like much."

"Ah, quit complaining," Crazy Eyes says.

The third guy, who's smiling despite the fact that they're broken down in the middle of nowhere with someone whose name they don't even know, tries to play the peace keeper. "Hyungs, it'll be fine. Younggukkie hyung will get us out of here."

Both of the others turn on Smiley. 

"And how's he going to do that, exactly?" Cheeks asks. "We're stuck."

Daehyun hugs his bag closer.

"Aish," Froggy says. "Nobody's here. We're going to have to wait until morning."

"I call the back seat!" Crazy Eyes says. "I need to get my beauty rest after all."

"Hyung, you got it last time we broke down ..."

"Let's do kai bai bo for it!"

"Excuse me," Daehyun says. They don't notice him. "Excuse me! Um, do you think I could get a taxi to take me back to Busan from here?"

They fall silent and stare at him. 

"Oh," Crazy Eyes says. "That was a joke, right. That was a joke, guys!" He starts laughing, a loud braying noise that doesn't do anything to set Daehyun at ease.

Daehyun's not a coward, but he feels like he might start to cry. "I'm not joking," he says. "I want to go home."

"Hey," Froggy says, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be okay, kid. What's your name, anyway?"

"Jung Daehyun. I'm nineteen years old. I'm from Busan." Daehyun swallows, nervous. "Are you ... are you guys gangsters?"

They all burst into laughter. Froggy laughs so hard that tears run down his face, and Cheeks is turning red. 

It's Crazy Eyes who gets control of himself first. "We're not gangsters," he says. "Jeeze, you watch too many dramas, kid. We are ...." He mimes a drumroll. "The Kim Him Chan Visual Extravaganza." He throws his arms wide and smiles. It's kind of creepy. 

Maybe they're all crazy people, Daehyun thinks.

Froggy is still laughing, but Cheeks rolls his eyes and shoves at Crazy Eyes. "Hyung, you keep trying, but I promise you that is never, ever, ever going to be our name." He turns to Daehyun and smiles. Daehyun can see well enough now to tell that it's a pretty nice smile. "I'm Yoo Youngjae, Daehyun-sshi, and we're not gangsters. We're a band." 

*****

Because Daehyun is the guest, they let him sleep on the bench seat. He appreciates the gesture, because it's got to be more comfortable than the bucket seats where Froggy -- Yongguk -- and Crazy Eyes -- Himchan -- are sleeping. There's no question it's more comfortable than the floor, which is where Smiley -- Jongup -- and Cheeks -- Youngjae -- have been relegated. 

It's not really all that comfortable though. He lies away for a long time, watching the shadows shift just a little as the wind catches the trees. He wonders if his parents have realized he's gone yet. He wonders what they'll do once they do realize.

He wonders when -- if -- he'll ever see them again.

He pulls his jacket tighter around himself and closes his eyes, but it's a long time before he actually does fall asleep.

In the morning, they're woken up by someone knocking hard on the window.

Yongguk, startled, rolls it down as quickly as he can.

The old man who owns the gas station is suspicious at first, but when Yongguk explains their plight -- and mentions that they're going to pay for the repairs -- he becomes very friendly, nearly grandfatherly in fact.

It's the radiator, he announces, after just a few minutes under the hood. 

"I can fix it for you boys," he says, "but it's going to take most of the day."

None of them seem very happy, Daehyun thinks, but it's not like they've got much of a choice.

He, on the other hand --

"Excuse me, ahjussi," he says. "Is there a bus that runs to Seoul?"

The old man frowns at him. "You aren't going to wait for your friends?"

"Ah ..." Daehyun swallows. "They're not ..."

"You can catch the bus down in town," the old man says, gesturing vaguely in the distance. "Runs twice a day. Costs thirty thousand won. Took it once to go visit my son. Can't get that boy to come here and visit me, not if his life depended on it." Muttering, he turns away.

Daehyun bows low. "Thank you," he says, even though the old man isn't paying attention.

Thirty thousand won is too much. That's nearly a quarter of his money, and he's got no guarantee he'll have luck finding a job right away. He's got to be frugal. He's got to wait for the band and their van.

The four guys are sitting on the guardrail at the side of the parking lot. Jongup and Youngjae are playing kai bai bo. Jongup throws out paper, and Youngjae throws out stone, and when he realizes he's lost he scrunches his nose in dismay.

"Ahhh, Jonguppie, how could you do this to me?"

"Stop whining," Himchan says. "You lost, Youngjae. Now go get us some lunch." He rubs his stomach.

He's been trying to ignore it, but the mention of food makes Daehyun realize how hungry he is. Famished, in fact. He hasn't eaten anything since dinner the night before. He tries hard not to think of his mother's kimchi and soft, fluffy rice. He could eat three bowls-full right now.

"Ah, hyung," Youngjae says, scowling. "I can't believe you're making me go by myself."

"You'll be fine," Yongguk says, handing over a wad of bills. 

Daehyun steps forward. "I'll go with you," he says. "Um, if you don't mind."

Youngjae stares at him silently. "Ah, fine," he says, his eyes narrowing.

"See, now you don't have to go alone," Yongguk says, slapping Youngjae on the shoulder.

"I want kimbap," Himchan says. "And don't take too long. I think we might die of hunger."

It's a good ten kilometers into town. Daehyun walks with his hands on the shoulder straps of his backpack. Youngjae is sulky, hands in his pockets. He keeps kicking rocks off the road. They bounce off the asphalt and into the brush.

"Are you from Seoul?" Daehyun asks. It's going to be a long ten kilos if they can't at least make polite chitchat.

"Pretty much," Youngjae says. "And I can tell where you're from."

Daehyun frowns. He knows his accent is pretty strong, but it's not great to be reminded. He's got to work on that, if he wants to ... Well, no point in getting ahead of himself. He's got to get to Seoul, first of all.

"Um, what kind of band are you?"

Daehyun's never met anyone in a band before, except some of the grandmas and grandpas who play old trot songs at the community center in his town.

"We're a rock band," Youngjae says. "A _real_ band. Himchan hyung and I write the music, and Yongguk hyung writes all the lyrics."

"Wow," Daehyun says. "Really? You write your own songs?"

Youngjae nods. He's got round cheeks that bunch up when he smiles. It's cute, Daehyun thinks -- but he doesn't say that. "Himchan hyung is really talented. He went to a performing arts high school and can play all kind of traditional instruments."

"Wow," Daehyun says again. "That's really cool." He'd wanted to go to a music high school too -- but the tuition fees had been too high. There was a good music program at his school, but it hadn't been the same thing.

"Yup," Youngjae says. "We're going to try to put out an album soon."

"Wow," Daehyun says again. He cringes. He sounds like an idiot, saying the same thing over and over. "Um, I always wanted to be a singer."

Youngjae turns to look at him. His eyes are wide, and it's hard for Daehyun not to notice how long his eyelashes are. "Really? So what are you doing hitchhiking to Seoul, anyway?"


	51. First Night Back in the Dorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and totally off the cuff based on the news of B.A.P going back to TS. Trying to remember how to do this writing thing.

"Hello old man."

Yongguk looks up, blinks.

Himchan grins. "I'm going to have to train you all over again, aren't I? That was a joke, Yongguk. You're supposed to laugh, or better yet, say something clever back. You could have tried, 'Look in a mirror lately, Himchan?' or 'Pot, meet kettle,' although that's a little cliche. Or wait, I've got it, 'I might be old, but at least I'm not booking a berth on the Napa Valley wine train for my next vacation.'"

Yongguk grins. "You're going to have to repeat that all very slowly if you expect me to figure out what you want me to do."

Himchan's laugh is jagged and prickly. He throws himself down onto Yongguk's bed. "Very good," he says. "That was almost funny. With a little effort you could be rivaling -- wait, that was supposed to be a joke, right?"

Yongguk throws a pillow at him. He's glad he made Himchan laugh.

Himchan catches it against his chest and hugs it tight. He's all nervous energy, bristling like he does before they go on stage or do an interview. "What are you doing in here anyway, Bbang? The kids are out in the living room arguing about what to order for dinner. You should come chaperon."

"They're not kids anymore," Yongguk says. "Not even Junhong." It's true, and it's so strange. Not even a year, but they all seem so much older now. Even Junhong is an adult now, old enough to decide what he want for dinner, among other things.

Himchan shrugs. "They're _our_ kids, though. They're always going to be our kids ... My god, I sound just like my mother."

"What are you going to do if you ever actually have kids?"

"They're going to live with me until they're forty," Himchan says, deadpan. He shakes his head. "Not like I'm ever going to have to worry about that. I can just keep focusing all my nesting instincts on Jongup. He likes it."

"You don't know that," Yongguk says, frowning. "You don't know what's going to happen, Himchan. You could --"

"No," Himchan says. "We're not getting any younger, Yongguk. At this rate I'm going to die an old maid."

Yongguk nods. Those words jangle. They are not getting any younger. He knows it. Even though he's thought through the decision over and over and convinced himself that going back to TS is the best plan he still has an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach he can't shake, because he is not getting any younger. Twenty five this year, and he and Himchan have another four, five years at most before they have to enlist.

What then? What about the kids then? Maybe it would be better just to give this up and let them move on. Let Youngjae get the education he wants and let Daehyun pursue stardom on his own. Let Jongup keep dancing. Let Junhong follow his dreams wherever they lead him.

They are all so amazing. He feels blessed to have each and everyone one of them on his team. He can't screw this up again. He can't let everything go to hell a second time.

"You're overthinking it again, aren’t you?“ Himchan says, quietly.

"Sorry," Yongguk says, sheepishly. He doesn't need to tell Himchan what he was thinking. There were many nights of one-sided conversation, Yongguk sitting in his bedroom at his parents' house in the dark spewing all his worries at Himchan, things he couldn't even tell Natasha, couldn't tell Yongnam.

"Stop worrying about it," Himchan says. "Too late now anyway, right? The papers are signed."

Last week, actually. The ink has dried and they're already back in the dorms. (Not the dorm they left, the one they'd lived in so briefly before everything went to hell. Yongguk is glad for that. That place had seemed a palace when they moved in, but he has no desire to see it ever again. He spent some of the worst nights of his life there.)

"You're right. Thanks, Himchan," he says. He stands up. "It's too late to worry. We just have to do the best we can, and keep doing the right thing."

Himchan punches him in the arm. "Now there's the Bbang I know and love. Save some of that pep talk for the team, Coach."

Yongguk rolls his eyes.

"Besides," Himchan says. "If things go to shit, we just leave this time. Doesn't seem so scary now, right?"

Yongguk is surprised to realize that Himchan is right. If things go to shit, they can leave. If it's not what they want, they can leave. He has no way of knowing that he's making the right choice for himself or for his team, but it's the best he can do based on what he knows right now.

And they can always leave.

Something clatters in the other room. Himchan shakes his head. "Come on," he says. "That sounded like Daehyun. If they haven't decided you're going to be the tie-breaking vote. What do you want to eat anyway?"

Yongguk grins sheepishly. ".. Ramyeon?"

Disgusted but fond, Himchan shakes his head. "You never change, do you?"

Yongguk shakes his head.

Himchan puts his arm around Yongguk’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”


End file.
